Life on the Edge
by dark-loving aura
Summary: Hermione is chosen for Snape's assistant, but her real tasks begin when she finds her professor for once helpless and lost for words. What happened, and, most important, what will happen in the brooding dangers of Voldemort's ongoing plans? What role play
1. 1

Chapter 1

"Miss Granger, would you be so nice and _do watch your cauldron_?!"

Hermione jumped and looked down at her bubbling potion in embarassement. Hastily she stirred the bright purple liquid and prevented it from boiling over. The Slytherins sniggered, and she cast a dark look at Snape's back. Besides the fact that he had been right this time, she had been his target for biting remarks very often lately. It was going so far that she merely felt ignored if she didn't recieve at least one comment of the snapeish sort in one lesson. A faint bubbling made her jump again, and just in time she added the dragon tears to the potion before it really boiled over. Ron leaned to her, grinning:

"Close one this time, eh?"

Before she could answer, a very soft voice behind her said:

"Well, Miss Granger, it seems that you lack concentration lately; please do remember to stay behind after class, we will see if can do something to impove your skills again."

Hermione stared at Snape in disbelief:

"Detention? But Sir, I'm Head Girl and..."

"Maybe, but that doesn't save you. In the contrary. Even you should know how important it is to pay fully attention. And now get back to work, everyone!"

"But Hermione didn't..."

"Mr. Weasly, if you want to join Miss Granger this afternoon, just go on..." Ron shut his mouth close, his neck as red as a hydrant. Hermione hardly recognised Snape's smirk, she was fumig about her cauldron. She really wanted to kick something (or somebody...) very hard, instead she caught a look from Harry.

"No single word!", she mouthed angrily, and Harry raised his hands innocently. Luckily the lesson didn't take much longer, and twenty minutes later they were safed by the bell. While the rest of the class hurried out of Snape's classroom, Hermione trodded to his desk.

"Good, you seem to make some progress..."

Hermione didn't bother to answer that. In fact, every answer she _was_ thinking of was worth a week's detention, if not more...

"This afternoon at five, be at time."

Snape didn't even bother to look at her, and so Hermione just said "Yes, Sir", trying to keep that mock-military tone out of her voice, and turned. Harry and Ron were waiting outside, and together they made their way towards the Great Hall. When they sat down for lunch, Ron was still complaining about Snape's behaviour.

"Come on, Ron, he won't change any more, he's too old.", Hermione said and looked out for something to drink. Harry stared at her in amusement:

"Hermione, is it possible that you have a really good time at the moment?"

"No, it's just that I'm really annoyed and I won't take anymore from Snape, no matter how many detentions he is giving me. I'm fed up."

Ron looked impressed. "Wow! Too bad you can't dump potions, I'd love to see you stomping out of his classroom as you did with Trelawny! Just imagine his face!" The three laughed, and Hermione added "Hey, now I know what I'll think if Snape makes me scrub his crusted cauldrons! And I'll go to hell before telling him the reason if I laugh my head off!"

In a much lighter mood they continued their classes after lunch and finally went up to the Gryffindor common room. When it came to five o'clock, Hermione sighed and went back down to the dungeons.

Snape waited for her in his private lab behind his classroom. On his desk, she saw a line of little glass bottles in a glowing dark red. Snape already stood in a small extra room, and Hermione could see shelves an wardrobes full of glass jars, bottles parcels and a lot more, all holding different kinds of ingredients. He collected some of the jars, put them down beneath a cauldron and turned to her.

"You will brew some pepper-up potion and fill it into these phioles. Be careful, the potion is needed in the hosptal wing. Here are the ingredients, you find the reciepe in "Medical Solutions" over there."

With that Snape sat down behind his desk and started with grading papers. Hermione was positively surprised, she had imagined he would have set the most disgusting task for her he could think of - but instead, he had given her some work she really liked.

"But better not show him...", she thought and walked over to the cauldron. As she prepared the ingredients like the reciepe told her, she recognised that she stood face to face with Snape; he could easily watch every step she took in the brewing process. Hermione became very nervous; the situation seemed to be an exam more likely than a detention. She pulled herself together and concentrated on her task. After some minutes she nearly forgot her exposed position and worked on the potion, following precisely the instructions, and nearly an hour later she gave the mostly finnished liquid a last stirr. Without looking at Snape she cleaned up her instruments and packed up the remaining ingredients, leaving them neatly rowed next to the softly simmering cauldron. A unnerving prickle on her forehead made her finally look up: Snape was staring at her from his desk, all papers finished and piled on his side. With a start Hermione recognised that he must had watched her quite a time yet, and she felt herself blushing. She forced herself to walk over to his desk and picked up the phioles, cursing her slightly unsteady hands, but she managed to grasp all bottles in one go and returned to the cauldron. With relief she breathed out deeply. Why became she so nervous in Snape's present? Of course, he hadn't lost his sarcasm, biting tongue and arrogance in the last seven years but she had got used to it. In class she had not been frightened of him for a long time now; so why now? Only because she was alone with him and would get the full blast if something went wrong? Maybe; but now she found it very unnerving that Snape hadn't said a single word after his instructions. Carefully she filled the last bottle and corced it. She turned and flinched a bit: Snape was still watching her with an intense gaze she couldn't read.

"I'm finnished. Where shall I put those?"

Hermione managed to say in a sudden flash of self-confidence and pointed to the remaining glass jars.

"Just leave them, I'll put them back."

He paused, still keeping eye-contact, then indicated her the chair in front of his desk.

"Please sit down, Miss Granger; I have a question for you."

"What now?", Hermione thought, alarmed all of a sudden, "is he going to lecture me about the spoiled potion this morning? But why that dramatical gesture?"

She sat down and looked up to him. "Awful, even when he sits I have to look up! No wonder he's so arrogant..." She forced her attention back to the present situation and tried to hold Snape' gaze. Despite his usual tactic he didn't stare her out but began to speak.

"As you perhaps know, I'm working on the field of potion research additional to my teaching here. Lately I have come close to a larger discovery, but for further research and the experimental stage I'll need more time than I have at the moment."

He paused again, intesifying his gaze. "I have watched you for some time by now. It seems as if you have some talent for brewing, and if you can keep your mind on the cauldron, as you did the last hour, the results are quite... acceptable. So my question for you is: Could you imagine to assist me, let's say, twice a week to do some brewing Madame Pomfrey asked for, and sometimes to pre-grade the first- to fourth-year essays? Of course this will be additional to your normal timetable and homework, so think about it and tell me your decision at latest next week." Flabbergasted and blushed for excitement Hermione burst out loud:

"Of course I'd like to assist you! Sir, I don't need to think about this offer, it's a great chance for me. So, yes, I'd really like to!"

Out of a corner of her mind Hermione recognised that she must look ridiculous, red-faced, nearly bobbing up and down on her chair in an excited childish manner and speaking a lot too fast out of eagerness. Snape raised an eyebrow and looked down on her.

"Are you sure? Perhaps you should be aware of the big amount of time that this job will take, _your_ freetime. You can be sure that I won't tolerate less than your full co-operation..."

Hermione calmed a bit and open-minded she looked Snape straight in the eyes.

"I'm fully aware of the implications, Sir, and I still want to assist."

The smallest flicker of a smile danced around Snape's lips, than he straightened his face again and rised from his seat.

"I also accept, then, if you are that sure. First meeting on next Tuesday."

Hermione had risen, too, and had let Snape lead her back to the door.

"Yes, that'll go ahead with my time-table."

She already was through the door when she turned and nearly bumped into Snape who had followed her out of the office. A faint scent of sandal-wood and patchouly drifted towards her, a scent that caused cool, pleasuring goose pimples on her back and arms. "Is that him? Never smelled that before..." She looked up to him again, meeting his black, unreadable eyes: "Er...sorry. I just, um... Thank you."

He again raised an eyebrow, and Hermione could tell that he was holding back an unpleasant remark.

"Hurry, you may still get some dinner.", he said instead with slight annoyance. With that he locked his office behind him and strode off, leaving a very happy Hermione behind. "Well... I would bet that was actually a smile, that last expression..." Hermione mused light-headed as she went to the Great Hall; she _had_ to tell Harry and Ron about the best detention she ever had!


	2. 2

Chapter 2

Harry and Ron watched Hermione with big eyes as she told them everything about the last one and a half hour at dinner. Unbelieving, Ron shook his head.

"Honestly, Hermione, how can you be actually _happy_ to spend even more time with Snape?! I thought the lessons were far enough, no need to see that git any minute more, thank you!"

"At first, the work with him will be an excellent addition to my final report; have you any idea how impressive it will be to employers if I can say of myself that I have helped Britains most competent Potions Master with his researches?"

Ron and Harry exchanged a quick glance.

"And how do you know he _is_ Britains most competent Potions Master? If you ask me, he might be quite good, but that doesn't make him the best.", Harry retorted.

Hermione turned to him a bit annoyed.

"Simple: If you ever would read something else than Quidditch-reports, you would have come across Snape's articles in "Ars Alchemica"; and half a year ago there was a report about Snape in "Present Potions" that made really clear that among potion brewers and alchemists, he is regarded as the best on this subject in this century. You see, this assistance-job will be more than a career-booster, no matter what you two think of Snape."

Ron looked quite stunned, and Harry smiled slyly to her.

"I never knew that you are that interested in our dear Potions Master..." Hermione snorted. "Really! No, I'm interested in potions, you know that. That I've come across his articles is just a consequence."

"Whatever", Ron cut in. "Hey, if you assist him in his office, you could sneak out the next term paper questions for us!"

"Yeah, and change some of our marks in his notebook!"

"No, better: We write the next term paper as usual, and afterwards Hermione gives us the correct answers. Then we write the paper again and Hermione changes the scrolls in Snape's office!" With excitement Harry and Ron played through some ways of cheating, all including a big deal of Hermione's help so close to Snape's notes. Only a short time later the three of them laughed helplessly at their bizarr plans, being only too aware of the fact that Hermione would never play along. Whiping some tears out of her eyes, Hermione rised finally.

"Alright guys, just dream along. I still have some work to do, I'll see you later in the common room." Harry and Ron waved grinning, then stucked their heads together again, undoubtly plotting some other prangs. Happy and proud Hermione walked into the Gryffindor common room and upstairs into her private room. She felt a fluttering sensation every time she thought about the next Tuesday; the first day as Snape's assistant... She really had to force her thoughts back to her Arithmancy essay, and it took a while before she was able to concentrate properly. What would she have to do to assist him? Hopefuly he wasn't as bad as in class to her; but why would he have chosen her if he was going to terrorize her? Hermione became very impatient and couldn't wait the next Tuesday to arrive.

The first "lesson" as assistant was rather ordinary. Hermione arrived at Snape's office ten minutes earlier to find him busy in detention with a close-to-tears second year. "Great", Hermione thought, "just what I ever wanted: Watching Snape while he's scaring the wits out of other people." The Potions Master indicated the door to his private lab to her without a word and turned to his victim again.

"Mr. Weedle, those cauldrons will not become clean by just stroking them! Hurry up, you've wasted my time long enough!"

Quickly Hermione closed the labdoor; she had no desire to witness a scared boy whimpering under Snape's stare. She walked a little around the lab, doing a kind of sightseeing of Snape's sanctuary and tried to read the lables on the jars above the heavy desk. Just when she stepped closer the door swung open and Snape strode in.

"Curiosity can become dangerous, Miss Granger... In your case it will if you don't step back from that liquid on the right next to you."

Hermione took a step backwards at once, eyeing the dark violet potion in its small, already opened vial on the desk she hadn't noticed until now.

"What is it?"

"That is something I have to figure out now. I only know that it has caused a heart attack on the last person who got a drop on his skin."

Hermione moved back some more steps.

"I see, you are learning fast!"

Snape smirked and picked up a pair of black dragonhide gloves. When he settled down behind his desk and reached for the vial, Hermione finally found her speech again.

"Ah, Sir... Aren't you wearing safety glasses? I mean, if this is an highly dangerous potion it would be better to..."

"Would you really like to tell me how I have to do my job?"; Snape interrupted her with a dangerously sweet and silky voice. His eyes bored into hers and Hermione felt herself blush.

"Of course not. But I think..."

"Well, turn your thinking to your task then. On the desk behind you are some healing potions, antidotes and blood cures which need to be tested. Number the vials and write down the test results. _All_ results and possible upcoming effects, I have to grade the potions later."

Hermione had turned eagerly to the desk behind her, noticing that it stood now with its side to Snape, and examined the different sized vials closely. On the first look she could tell that a lot of the healing potions would do more damage than healing up properly, and the antidotes looked... interesting. The other potions seemed to be alright and Hermione concluded that they must come from an already advanced class, fourth or fifth maybe. She began to work and decided to start with the antidotes. Out of the corner of her eye she could see how Snape extremely carefully poured out a thin line of the violet potion into a test-tube. He held the potion to his eye-level and swirled it around before putting it back, leaving the small vial opened next to him. Hermione's stomach dropped suddenly when he turned abruptly, his elbow missing the vial very closely. Hermione noticed that his motions were precisely and, although fast, never hastily or uncontrolled. Not really calmed she forced her attention back to the antidotes, but with every further movement Snape made she nearly jumped and glanced over to him quickly. After twenty minutes, Snape had enough.

"Miss Granger, would you be so keen and stop staring at me while I'm handling this? I thought that your tests would keep you busy but it seems that you aren't occupied with it."

He sounded strangely annoyed. "So, he doesn't like to be watched; can't stand his own medicine, eh?", Hermione thought amused. Out loud she answered

"Sorry, Professor, but it makes me nervous if you keep investigating that potion without any safety measures."

She wanted to go on but again he interrupted her.

"Alright, for your sake... I don't want to trouble you more than neccessary!"

Snape retorted with a sneer, sarcasm dripping out of his voice. Hermione turned to her potions, rolling her eyes. Alright, may he poison himself! She wouldn't run for Madame Pomfrey if he killed himself accidently. She heard him rumaging in a drawer, then shutting it loudly. After a few minutes she risked a glance over her shoulder and had to bite back a laugh: Snape had drawn his shoulder-length hair back with a ribbon and was wearing oval safety-glasses with airy thin crystal plates in a silvery frame. At the moment he dripped some clear liquid in one of the test-tubes, not being aware that he was watched once more. "Hmm, unusual look, but somehow it suits him!" Hermione grinned to herself and went on with her work. Two hours later (they hadn't exchanged a single word after Snape had given in) Hermione was finished. She wrote down the last remarks about the potions she had tested and rolled up the scroll. With a quick glance and a short nod, Snape showed her that he had recognized her, and she was dismissed. Carefuly Hermione closed the door behind her after she ad had stepped out into the classroom and went off. On her way back to the commom room she wondered if she would ever know what Snape would work out about the violet potion, and decided to try the way of innocent asking the next time. "Well, not really eventful, this assistance; I hope there will be more interesting tasks the next time..."

There was, by the meaning of it. The next day already Snape called her to stay behind after the potions class, and curios she went towards his desk.

"I need some of those articles for next week. I don't have the time to read them by myself again, so I want you to write down the most important thesises and keywords, listed by author and year the article was published. It will take some time, so start as early as possible. Don't be surprised, it has nothing to do with potions, but I need it for research."

With that he handed her a list of sixteen titles, some of them marked.

"The marked ones have to be ordered, as far as I know. Madam Pinch is informed."

Hermione looked over the paper, brows furrowed.

"How To Do Things With Words, by Austin? Generative Grammar, by Chomsky; Susan Roumaine, Bilingualism; Shana Poplack, Code-Switching; Dimensions of Bilingualism, by Li Wei; Sir, what - "

"Later. It's for a project I'm working on. I'll tell you more the moment I'm sure my idea will work. Till then - just read those papers and collect the most important information."

"And when shall I bring you the results?"

"Next Tuesday. Today I have some complex tests to do, therefore your presence is not acquired." "Am I not allowed to watch and learn from your tests?" Hermione asked with a slightly provocative voice. Snape looked up at her, the first time during their talk, and raised an eyebrow. "Under normal circumstances you would have to do them on your own but the potion is complex and is needed in St. Mungo's, so I do it myself."

Hermione felt strangely hurt and retorted:

"Alright; but if you think I'm not up to my job, I have to fail you. I'm quite able to do an analysis, and even if it is an unusual potion -"

When she drew new breath to continue, she noticed the small smile in the corner of Snape's mouth. It came to her that he knew exactly what she was capable of, and had provoked her into standing against him. Now he seemed to read the new thoughts in her mind.

"Believe me, if it were possible, I wouldn't let you miss it. But it is not possible, so no further discussions."

Hermione heard the honesty in his voice and knew it made no sense to argue. With a nod, she left the classroom, not aware of Snape's eyes following her.

In the evening, Snape prepared the dangerous test in his chambers behind his office. The small vial on his desk held a water clear potion, glimmering innocently in the candle light. The problem was that this potion couldn't been tested in a tube; it was the famous posion known as "Black Sleep". It held the body in a quasi-dead state; heart beat and breath stopped, the whole body became paralized. The poisoned person would be aware of every action around him but not able to move, speak, or even open his eyes. The benefit was the medical effect: Dangerously hurt persons, treated with the potion, would "survive" in that state for a couple of hours. Life-saving, if it was dosed correctly. Otherwise it was deadly; slowly killing, making the victim aware of every body function stopping to work one by one. The process could go on over hours. Snape loved the potion. Only few people were able to brew it right; and even less people were willing to test it. Snape could be counted to both, and he was the only one. Now he had to test one potion of his own, something he liked better to do; if it was flailed, or too strong, it would be at least his own fault if he died. He hated the thought of his fate in the hand of a face-less foreigner. With a sigh he settled down behind his desk and took a spoon out of a drawer. He picked up the tiny bottle and spilled two drops on the spoon; if his calculations were right (and they were always right), the dose would paralyze him for two hours. He stopped before drinking the potion; it could become very uncomfortable if he took it while sitting behind his desk. On the way to his bed he felt the thrilling excitement which came every time with an experiment on his own body. He settled down on his bed, carefully balancing the liquid on the spoon. He watched the tiny drop glittering in the light of his fireplace, a great heat floating from his stomach through his whole body. He had to calm his breath before taking the potion; yes, he couldn't wait to feel the velvet and warming influence it hold. He felt a smile crinkling the corner of his mouth, and he decided to go on. After skipping off his shoes, Snape laid down and in the same time drank the drops. In an instance he felt light-headed, his visions became soft and blurry, and a velvet darkness settled upon him. Heavily he sunk in the pillows, every muscle relaxed. So far, the potion worked as expected. After a while, Snape noticed that the darkness became thicker; he felt more and more sleepy, but sleep would mean certain death. Against better knowledge he tried to move, to prevent himself falling asleep, but of course he wasn't able to. He tried to remember as much potion receipes as possible, but even that didn't last long to keep him awake. A strange sensation crept through his throat; it was a kind of panic, but more because he wondered how long it would take someone to find his body; and _who _would find him. Snape felt the comfortable, heavy curtain of sleep dragging his mind into darkness, and in the same time he felt that he wasn't strong enough to fight it any longer. "How many time has past yet? Maybe I can survive an half an hour of sleep; fourty minutes? Would that be possible?" With that, he drifted away.


	3. 3

Chapter 3

Warm darkness greeted Snape. His senses were floating back slowly, and he noticed, beneath an uncommon sensation on his face, an airy scent of cinnamon over the fresh smell of soap he was used to from his bed sheds. Carefully he breathed it in, aware of the fact that he _was_ able to breath again. Then he could attach the feeling on his skin to a meaning: Someone was stroking his cheek. With great effort he opened his eyes, blinded at first from the incoming light. Some lines were coming into focus, darkened and grew wider to the well-known features of his bedroom. Now Snape could also feel a weight on the right side next to him, and comfortable warmth, as well as the cinnamon scent, spreading from it. He turned his head slowly and looked up, blinking. The shadowy figure above him became the outline of a well-known person.

"Didn't I tell you not to accompany my tests?",

he croaked, finally realising the person next to him.

"Yes, you did. But I was curious enough to sneak in and read your notes on that damn poison you took. What happened?"

She sounded calm, but quite shaken, he noticed. With a sigh Snape closed his eyes again and leaned back on the pillow - no, Hermione's lap, he realised suddenly. He tried to get up rapidly after this discovery, with the only result that his vision blurred again and he fell back.

"Shh, stay!"

Her concerned voice and her ongoing stroking unnerved Snape. He wasn't some little child who needed comfort!

"The potion is too strong. I think I made a mistake with the measurement of Night Tears..."

"And that can cause a medical potion turn deadly?"

She kept stroking him gently.

"Not the potion as such. But the dosage is affected. That too much of Night Tears caused me falling asleep, and that's fatal with this poison. Well - usually it is."

He opened his eyes once again and stared suspiciously into Hermione's face above him.

"I saw you shiver, as if you tried to fight the potion. When I touched you, you calmed but didn't relax properly; in the given context I regarded it as a good sign and went on," Hermione explained and blushed slightly.

"She's right," Snape thought. "If she hadn't caused this kind of sensation I would have lost contact. Oh no... Not her! From all students in this school, why _Granger_?!" He looked up again and met Hermione's eyes. Besides the still remaining concern, he noticed the first time that her eyes were of a violet colour; oddly enough, he had always thought her eyes were brown. He mentally slapped himself; it couldn't be possible that this girl was able to distract him so easily! Must be an after-effect of the potion... He tried to sit up again, slowly this time, and had to force himself not to shove away Hermione's helping hand on his back. He had intended to get some distance between him and Hermione, but now he found the situation worse: She now sat behind him, leaning slightly against his shoulder to support him, looking questioning up to him. Her right hand still rested on his back, the other one reached for his own. Snape went rigid at once when she touched his upper leg and stood up - too fast. He stumbled back and fell on his bed again, where Hermione caught him to his embarrassment. She coughed shortly under his weight, then held him firmly in her arms. Now he looked up to her, feeling very stupid and more angry at the same time.

"Miss Granger, there is no further need for your presence in this room," he said with suppressed voice. To his anger - or astonishment? - she merely smiled.

"Alright, Professor, I'll leave. But please, when you testing this potion again, tell someone else to watch and to intervene if necessary. Will you?"

"I will consider it. Now get out! Make sure you're in time for class tomorrow. I won't accept any excuses!"

"Of course, Sir."

Hermione lifted his head from her lap and climbed out of the bed. She strode towards the door, where she paused. "Good Night."

Without a look back she left. Snape waited until he heard his office door snap, then he relaxed with a loud sigh. He remembered that he should drink much water after the effect of the potion had worn off. With effort he pulled himself upright and got himself a large mug of water. He settled back on his bed and took a gulp when realisation hit him finally. He had nearly died - he had endangered not only his own life, but the success of his spying mission, his only chance to repair some of the horrible things he'd done. Snape noticed his hands shivering. He had to thank Granger tomorrow - hadn't he? She didn't know anything about his past, she wouldn't understand the implications. Oh, he hated to be in someone's debt! But nevertheless he was going to do it, he needed her help in his coming research. Snape emptied the mug, waved out the candles with his wand and laid down. In the darkness the memories of the last half an hour floated back, and Snape groaned. Why had it to be Granger? And why had she acted - how she had acted? Snape felt comfortable when the students were frightened of him and stayed out of his way. Well, Granger was an exception in quite a way, otherwise he wouldn't have chosen her as assistant - but she hadn't shown the smallest sign of decent discomfort, in the contrary, she had seemed to enjoy the situation. Snape pulled a pillow over his face, crossing his arms around it, and tried to block out those images. If he thought about it - it had been quite a while since the last person had given him a different smile than a nervous or a fearful one...

"Damn!"

He had to get these thoughts out of his mind, they could become dangerous for him. After another large glass of water he drifted into sleep again, a comfortable and healthy one this time.

The next morning began worse than the last evening had ended - Snape nearly fell out of bed for pain. The Dark Mark on his left arm burned into his flesh and cut off his breath. Disoriented he tried to remember the day; Wednesday, it finally came to him. Luckily he did have only one class on Wednesday till afternoon which could easily be caught up later with his time turner (of course, Voldemort knew that) but still he had to be careful if he didn't want to be seen. It had to be a rather urgent topic, too; there wasn't any meeting planned for at least three weeks. He was ready to leave when he remembered to inform Dumbledore that he had been called. Cursing under his breath he hid the white mask under his robes and strode towards the headmaster's office.

Hermione awoke in her shadowy private room and dosed on a bit; she still had plenty of time. In the last months she had awoken very early, and sleep fled her in the early morning hours. She wondered if it had something to do with the N.E.W.T.s - only this single year was left of the wonderful years of school. Hermione knew exactly that she would do well at university, but she loved Hogwarts and a huge part of her refused to leave this place of security and - yes, home. She suspected that her fear of leaving caused the insomnia she had to fight with in the last time. She really would miss everything of this place. Although... She wouldn't miss Filch. And Miss Norris. And Snape. Well... The images of the last night came back to her. He had been close to death, she knew that. But the way he looked after she had touched him - relaxed; peaceful. Surprisingly his skin had felt smooth and silky, in the very contrast to his sallow look. She actually had enjoyed to care for him, after the first shock of watching her teacher collapsing had faded. Hermione snorted in her half-awake state: If Snape would knew any of her thoughts, he would declare her as that naive, ridiculous girl she was in his eyes and kick her out of assistance-ship. She continued to remember the last evening in Snape's bedroom. She had sneaked into his office under Harry's "special" cloak, eavesdropping the passwords to his private chambers and the bedroom as well, and watched him preparing the risky test. She was astonished that he hadn't noticed her: even if she had been invisible, Snape was known for his unusual sharpened senses. Hermione had been ready for him to uncover her by - well, maybe supernatural hearing or smelling; maybe he was even able to feel the presence of other people - but nothing had happened. So she was able to watch him striding through his chambers, glowing with excitement and eyeing the dangerous potion with sparkling and flashing eyes that Hermione had never seen before. Actually, Hermione had never seen Snape in this kind of light and joyful mood. And if she thought about it... He had looked even more peaceful and - natural - than later in his potion-indicated stasis. Well, of course this image had been destroyed after his awakening.

She giggled as she remembered Snape stumbling and falling in her arms - she would bet anything that he would have preferred to knock his head on the floor rather than being caught by her. His face had spoken volumes in that moment. Hermione remembered that peculiar smell she had recognised before, some sandal-wood and patchouly, warm and comfy. She was sure now that Snape gave it off; his pillow had smelled alike, and as she had supported him from behind, she had been so close to him that there was no mistake possible. Hermione rolled over and looked at her alarm clock (which had became useless in the last two or three months), groaned and got up. She remembered Snape's warning very well and hurried to be at time in the potions classroom. On her way downstairs she met Harry and Ron in a large group of babbling students who returned to the common room. Something had happened, by the look of it.

"Hey Hermione, guess what has happened!"

Ron stormed on her. Harry followed him with a big grin. She looked from one to the other.

"I have no idea. Now tell me and come on, we'll be late for potions."

"Nope, we won't! Snape is sick and all potion classes are cancelled for the next week!"

Ron jubileed. Hermione grew pale at once: The potion! The "Black Sleep" must have had some after-effects! And no one knew about the test last night, except her! Harry looked at her with concern:

"Hermione, what's on? Don't worry about the lesson... Or... Do you know something we don't?"

"Come with me. Quick," she told her friends with hoarse voice and broke in a run. Irritated, Harry and Ron ran past her, still having enough breath for questions, but Hermione shook her head.

"Later!" she panted and sped on.

"But Hermione, where are we going?" Ron moaned and stopped.

"Hospital wing, of course!" she told him over her shoulder. Shaking his head Ron trotted on. In the meantime Hermione reached the large door to the hospital wing and rushed through it. A very startled Madame Pomfrey looked up at her from her desk where she had written reports.

"Miss Granger, would you be so kind and tell me what this rampage means?!"

Hermione stopped abruptly.

"Professor Snape - he tested "Black Sleep" yesterday - maybe it has something to do with it - "

"What are you talking ab... Oh. Er, yes. Thank you for the warning, I'll see what I can do. Now get out please, you have classes to apply."

With that, the nurse shoved Hermione out and closed the door behind her. Harry and Ron, who had waited for her, looked at her expectantly.

"Er... Now... That is odd."

"And what? Come on, what's happened yesterday? Why do you think you can help Snape?"

"Yeah, and why do you _want_ to help him?" Ron grumbled.

Hermione wandered off slowly towards the Great Hall. Her thoughts stormed and rattled, and a certain suspicion grew in her. "Well... Are you sure that the classes are cancelled because Snape is sick?"

"Yeah, Dumbledore told us in front of the dungeons." A last piece fell into place and made her conclusion complete.

"Alright, listen. If Snape would be sick, where would he been? In the hospital wing, right?" Harry and Ron nodded.

"But when I entered, Madame Pomfrey sat behind her desk in her office. She was not in the bedroom, as she usually is when she has a patient. And when I mentioned Snape she didn't know what I was talking about in the first place. Don't you think that's odd?" Harry seemed to understand.

"You mean - Snape is not in the hospital wing, therefore he's not sick. But Dumbledore told us so, and that means... He has some reason that no one may know where Snape really is."

"Exactly. And... Well, I think that points to only one possible conclusion, doesn't it?" Ron had got the point, too.

"You mean, he's spying again? And that's why - but, Hermione: Normally he goes back to You-Know-Who in the holidays, when the school is closed. That is why his alibi works for the Death Eaters: For them he is spying out Dumbledore, and they know he can't go away from school and come back as he likes. If he is called during the school period, all of them know that he can't miss a whole day, not to speak of a week, without any explanation to Dumbledore. So, either they don't care and are willing to risk "their" loophole into the school, or..."

Hermione's eyes grew wide, and she continued Ron's sentence:"...or they know."


	4. 4

Chapter 4

The trio looked at each other.

"But Hermione... Snape has to inform Dumbledore every time when he is called; don't you think that both of them would get suspicious when it is during school time? And Dumbledore himself told us the story about Snape being sick - that would mean that he knows exactly that something's going wrong. But why... Why has he sent Snape despite this knowledge?" Harry wondered.

"Because," the three of them jumped as the headmaster stepped out of a hidden door behind them, "it is not unusual that Professor Snape has been called on a Wednesday morning. Perhaps you remember that he has only your class in this time, which he can catch up later with the use of his time turner. But I'm pleased to see that you use your brains," he said with twinkling eyes. Hermione grew purple, and Harry and Ron stood before him with open mouths. The headmaster continued:

"I'm sure that I don't need to tell you to keep your thoughts by yourself. And don't worry; Professor Snape may have not returned by now, which is, I have to admit, a bad sign, but I'm sure I will get message from him soon." "Yes Sir, of course" the trio stammered. With a wave and a last smile Dumbledore went towards his office. Hermione stared past him.

"But why did he speak of a whole week at breakfast?" she asked no-one special. Shrugging, the two boys took her with them back to the common room.

'Ah, Miss Granger, there you are." Hermione turned at the sound of Professor McGonagalls voice, waiting in her steps to Gryffindor Tower. Harry and Ron waved and climbed through the portrait-hole to leave Hermione to the head of their house. The elderly witch came towards her and handed her a folded piece of parchment.

"Professor Snape asked me to give you this, in the case that he does not return today." Hermione glanced at the note in her hand and recognised Snape's neat and elegant writing; she was puzzled, had he known something about his delay before he left? And why did he inform her via McGonagall? He could have passed her the note directly into her room, with his owl or one of the house-elves. She shrugged and looked up at her head of house:

"Thanks, Professor. Um, do you know if he'll be back tomorrow? Because there is this particular potion he is researching, and I can't go on with it's brewing on my own..." McGonagall smiled at her best student:

"I don't know when he'll be back, but I'm sure he left some instructions for you to deal with." She pointed at the parchment in Hermione's hand.

"Well, I should leave you to your tasks." With a small smile, McGonagall went back in her office. Curious Hermione unfolded the parchment and read.

For the case that I'm not able to be back at time, please follow the instructions below. As you may know, the Lingua Franca potion requires special treatment at this phase, so make sure you report every step of the ongoing brewing. Do not go any further than step six as the rest must be done under the next silvermoon. At last, Madam Pomfrey asked for a greater supply of pepper-up potion, please prepare fifteen phioles size three. You will find the ingredients in the left cupboard, as well as the phioles.

If I'm not back till weekend, freeze the L F potion. Don't try to finish it on your own, it is too dangerous.

A short list of required ingredients and a description of the brewing process followed. Brows furrowed, Hermione re-read the short note at the beginning. So it was this "Lingua Franca" potion for what he had needed her notes from the linguistic articles. Interesting. What would it be used for? And the name? Wasn't a lingua franca a trade-language? Or better, a term for a language which is used as a medium for communication between different speaking communities in trade, she remembered the definition from one of the articles she had read yesterday. Amazing, maybe Snape was looking for a way to understand foreign languages through potions? The new discovered hint on Snape's work kept her concentration away from the riddle around his absence, and lost in thought she entered the common room.

She was greeted with buzzing talk and laughter while she climbed through the portrait hole. She looked out for Harry and Ron and found them already in their favourite armchairs in front of the fire. It seemed as if Harry was losing another game of chess to Ron, instead doing homework. With a smirk, Ron watched as his bishop swept Harry's last tower off the board. Harry pounced his head on the table with a groan.

"C'mon, you've becoming better since the last match!"

"Well, that doesn't save me now... Oh, Hermione! That was a quick talk. Aren't you supposed to help the bat in his secret plans to take over the world while he is absent?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Actually, I think if Snape were planning that, he would have succeeded years ago." Ron watched her with big eyes.

"Don't tell me you really believe that!"

"Well, he's genious with potions. And he is very smart and talented..."

"And intrigous as well," continued Harry grinning.

"Yak! That sounds almost as if you'd like him, Hermione!"

"To like or to respect someone are different pairs of shoes, Ron!"

"Alright. And how does it come that you're not down in the dungeons already?"

Hermione sighed and waved with the note.

"I have to go down soon and make some pepper-up potion for Madame Pomfrey, but that's all for today.

"Uuh, he wrote you a _letter_?" cried Ron in mock-excitement and tried to grab the note out off Hermione's hand. She gave him a stony look.

"He just told me what to do about the potions. But I've been wondering... Here, read it."

Harry read the note as well and handed it to Ron afterwards.

"Hmm, you're right. He must have known that his mission will take long this time..."

The three looked at each other.

"You mean..."

"Would make sense, right?"

"Well, Voldemort had time enough to plot..." They bent closer and lowered voices.

"And if it is something urgent, you know Snape would try to interrupt. Or at least, gather as much information as possible, to find some counter-action."

"Thank you, Harry, _now_ I'm worried!" Hermione snapped and sank back into her armchair. Ron looked puzzled:

"Why? It's Snape! Wasn't that you who said some time ago that he is smart?"

"Yes, but try to imagine what happens if he ever get caught!"

"Well, one problem less... Hey, that's a joke!" Ron ducked at the cushions Hermione and Harry tossed after him.

"Ok ok, peace. But what are you worrying, Hermione, you can't do anything about it. He's an old boy, he can watch for himself." Hermione sighed.

"Right. But I still want to know what has happened."

"Perhaps you can grill him about it when he's back; but I'm not transfigurating you back, once he has cursed you into a toad!"

"Well thank you Harry, but I'll prefer flight rather than to be transformed by you! What happened to your armadillo once again?!"

They burst out of laughter.

"You know, it _did _look like a hand-grenade right from the beginning... Just be glad that I remembered the pin before I transformed it!"

Ron fell nearly off the chair, whipping his Queen of the board in front of him. Harry's chessmates cheered loudly to that incident and sent the trio into a new laughing fit.

"Alright, I think I should prepare those potions now," Hermione panted after several minutes. Harry, still giggling, removed his glasses to wipe off the tears, then sighed out loud.

"Yes, imagine Snape comes back suddenly and you've done nothing of his tasks... Pond or glass, Hermione?"

They burst out again, drawing once more the attention of the common room to them. Ron calmed down at first.

"By the way, what is this Lingua Franca potion Snape refers to in the note? I've never heard about that before."

"I don't know exactly what it is myself - or better, what it is going to be. See, it's a potion Snape is developing on his own, I had to read through the hole history of linguistics for him to get background information. Everything about language acquisition and bilingualism and so on. I think he is planning to create a potion that makes you understand foreign languages, but that's only my own interpretation, I have no further proof. Well, I better go down now and do those potions for Poppy. See you at dinner!" waved Hermione grinning and went through the portrait hole. But on her way down to the dungeons the worries came back. "Perhaps Snape is really already back and waiting for me; uh-oh, then he'll be pissed, I'm nearly half an hour late..." She reached his office and knocked ("Better save than sorry," she thought). The door creaked open at once, which puzzled Hermione. Snape never left his office without locking it... "But if he had, I wouldn't be able to get in, right?" Hermione mused and walked across the room to the wodden door that led to the lab. The tiny, silvery painted snake on the doorway that guarded the entrance twinkled and looked expectantly down to her. Hermione had been greatly pleased when she had seen this kind of lock the first time Snape allowed her to enter his sanctuary a week ago. With a grin, Hermione reached up and caressed the snake's head, then said the week's password she remembered from her first assistance, "Suomi" ("wonder what that means"), and watched the snake sliddering down to the keyhole. The door opened with a click, and as fast as it could the snake zoomed back to its place on the upper doorway. Proudly it blinked at her, and Hermione patted its head again before entering. "He really should treat you better, cute thing..."

A few hours later, Hermione was disturbed by a lout knock on the office door.

"Hermione, are you still there? Come on, dinner is ready in ten minutes!" It was Ron.

"Come in, I'm almost done," she called back.

Quickly she cleaned the used instruments and packed the remaining ingredients back into the cupboard. In the doorway she turned and shot a critical look around the lab; Snape would be furious if she left his sanctuary in a mess. She didn't see a single instrument out of its place, she only had to remember to bring Poppy the phioles with the pepper-up potion after dinner. She closed the lab-door behind her and was forced to laugh at the sight of Ron; he hovered nervously at the office door, ready to flee on the first sign of Snape coming in.

"Don't worry, he's not came back in the meantime."

"I'll never understand why you accepted to work with that git! Come, this room makes me shudder." She sighed.

With a drilling headache, a strange sensation of something badly going wrong soon and the bad feeling that she had forgotten something, Hermione woke up the next morning. Luckily her first lesson was to start at half past nine, so she could rest a little longer and enjoy the peace that her private room, the privilige of the Head Girl. She dozed on for a while, then sat up and reached for the book that she had discovered in Snape's library yesterday. She was positive that she would need a good explanation for Snape when he returned and discovered that she had took something out of his rooms without his permission, well, even without his knowledge. The book's explanations of the moon's influence on photosensible potions were complex and in a highly elaborated language ("no wonder Snape speaks like the Oxford Dictionary in person," Hermione thought), and soon she got up to her desk to take notes and to look up some of the used terms in the "Vocabulary of Potions"-dictionary that she had borrowed from the school library. While she read about the special storage of photosensitive potions, it hit her like a flash: The pepper-up potions! They were still in Snape's office; if he had returned by now, she would receive a nasty remark on fulfilling her duties, but what she feared most was that he could get the impression that she was not up to his expectations. Hurriedly she dressed and scampered down to the dungeons. The earlier lessons had already started, so it seemed as if she was alone in the hole castle. Skipping breakfast she ran straight to Snape's office and knocked. There was no answer, and irritated she knocked again; he wasn't still asleep, was he? The pictures of the accident a few days ago came back to her mind, and she wondered if her teacher looked so peaceful and (cute?) natural in his normal sleep too. With effort she forced her thoughts back to the present; carefuly she tried the doorhandle. It wasn't locked, and surprised she recognised that she must have been the last to leave the office. That meant Snape wasn't back yet, and with relief she opened the door to his office. She collected the small bottles out of the lab and this time remembered to lock the door with a spell as she left. On her way to the hospital wing she met Harry.

"Hi! What's the matter with you, are you sick? Or why are you up so early when you have the first lesson at ten?" she grinned at her best friend. Harry grimaced with twinkling eyes.

"Nope. But somehow Neville blew my Firebolt out of the dorm, he wanted to take a ride and just fell off before it carried him out of the window. I have to collect it..."

"Why don't you Summon it back?"

"I tried, but it didn't come. I guess it is stuck somewhere in a tree or something. Where are you going, by the way?"

"Hospital wing, I have to bring Poppy these potions. I should have done it yesterday, just forgot it about Ron's rage when Pigwidgeon landed in his potatoes..." Laughing they made their way to the hospital wing. Hermione put the phioles down on a desk in the nurses' office and scribbled a note of excuse. Harry waited outside:

"Want to come with me outside, searching?"

"Yep. I don't have any classes for a further half an hour. What do you think about breakfast at the lake?" Harry agreed, and they wandered outside and began to look after Harry's broom. It was one of those warm, sunny spring days with a deep blue sky and bright golden sunshine. The Forbidden Forest was covered with an enormous flock of white blossoms, and the lake glittered like silver. With a sigh Hermione recognised that this was her last spring at Hogwarts; next year at this time, she would be at university for half a year already, and she still had no idea which one she would prefer. A bit sad she closed up to Harry who had rounded the beautiful castle at half on his way to the outside of Gryffindor Tower.

"I hope Neville didn't blow it right into the forest, I don't want to bother Hagrid with a missing broom!" Harry grimaced.

Lazily Hermione nodded in agreement and looked around at the singled trees in this area of the grounds, enjoying the soft, spring-smelling breeze, but there was no sign of a broom. Instead, a small flutter of something black caught her eye. It was sprawled on the ground near to the rim of the Forbidden Forest, nearly hidden in the tall grass. She tugged Harry's sleeve.

"Hm? Have you found it?"

"I'm not sure; do you see that over there? Can you make out what it is?"

Harry had grown a lot in the last years and was now at least a head taller than her, so he had a better overlook. He craned his neck.

"Shit; that looks like a person! Come, quick!"

He sprinted towards the woods, and Hermione followed with an icy rock in her stomach and the sudden sensation of fear.


	5. 5

Chapter 5

The feeling of something ongoing from the earlier morning struck her once again. They reached the black lump together, and Hermione dropped herself to her knees to investigate it. Her foresight was proved right; in an instant she had recognised the black cloth as Snape's robes. Carefully she removed his cloak and found him lying lifelessly on his stomach, beneath him a puddle of blood.

"My gods..."

With Harry's help, she turned him over, and let out a gasp of horror: Snape's face bore, among an expression of horrible pain, uncounted deep cuts on cheeks, forehead and temples, also on his neck; regular ones, Hermione noted with disgust. They had been made systematically. A large slash crossed his right eye, and Hermione was sure that he had lost this one.

"Hermione, are you sure you don't have any talent as a seer? Just what we talked about yesterday..."

"Don't be stupid, help me to find a life-sign!" Hermione snapped back.

With trembling fingers she tried to feel Snape's pulse and made the next shocking discovery: As she removed the remains of the ripped blouse Snape was wearing and intended to take his wrist, she saw that his left arm - wasn't there. She felt Harry tense up next to her. At a closer look at the wound, she saw that the arm had been cut off right over the elbow; the reason of this mass of blood in the grass.

"Harry - your belt, quick!", she whispered.

White-faced Harry fumbled, then handed her his belt and sped off:

"Hold on, I'll get Poppy!"

As fast and as hard she could, Hermione bound the leather belt around Snape's arm and tried to stop the bleeding.

"Well, at least he still _does_ bleed, perhaps he can be saved - he _has _to be saved! Please, Merlin and all gods that might be there, please save him!"

She didn't know why she was crying suddenly. The tears just dropped down on Snape's chest when she bent over him, trying to feel a pulse at his neck.

"Professor! Professor Snape! Can you hear me? Professor!"

She softly clapped his cheek, trying not to harm him additionally to the cuts on his face. But he didn't react at her calling, just laid there with closed eyes, ashen-faced and without any sign of life. By the time Harry was back with a very alert Poppy, she shoved Hermione away and conjured up a stretcher. Very carefully the nurse lifted Snape up and on the stretcher; Hermione noticed that his shoulder-length hair was burned up to his ear on the left side, revealing some more cuts and bruises on his neck. Swearing under her breath Poppy broke in a run again with the stretcher on her side.

"Severus! Severus, do you hear me? Severus, holy shit man, open your eyes!", she shouted at the unconscious man, but with no result. Hermione and Harry fell back, panting. They reached the hospital wing only a few seconds after Poppy, but she already had laid Snape down on a bed and had removed the rest of his clothes with her wand. Hermione saw that the cuts - deep ones, partly she could see the white bone at the bottom - covered Snape's hole body. Poppy whirled around to the both of them.

"Leave! That's nothing you should see! Go and get Dumbledore!"

Harry nodded and darted out of the door. Hermione swallowed and stepped closer.

"I want to help! What can I do?"

She refused the thought of leaving right now, it didn't seem to be right; the same feeling she had had when she had watched Snape collapse under the "Black Sleep". Still swearing Poppy hovered over Snape:

"Damn them! That's not supposed to be healed... If you don't leave, go bring the stifling-mull from over there, and the regrowing potion from my office. Hurry!"

Then she began a spell-casting on a large slash that nearly parted Snape's chest in two. Hermione stormed to the pointed storeboard and collected the needed items. Breathless she put them down at the bedside table, and risked a further look on Snape's body. Poppy had already healed the most dangerous wounds, but Hermione noticed that she still easily could need a third hand. She grabbed the roll with the magical mull and intended to wrap Snape's cut arm with it.

"Stop! First look if there are any bone splinters left. If so, drag them out of the wound." Hermione followed the instructions and removed some tiny bits of bone and two small earth crumbs.

"Ready."

"Wash it out with a lot destilled water."

Hermione found a bottle of it and a bowl to hold beneath it.

"Ok, now the desinfection. Be careful not to rip out the vene. Done? Alright, go and get some more regrowing potion, I'll wrap it."

When Hermione came back with another bottle in her hand, she saw that Poppy had healed most of the wounds in the area of a main artery. Now she lifted carefully the lid of Snape's right eye, swore once more and reached for a little piece of mull. Hermione watched as the nurse gently cleaned out the bloody mess that had remained of the eye, dripped a few drops of the regrowing potion in the socket and finally covered it with a bandage.

"Can... can I do something else?" asked Hermione quietly.

"Can you restore nerves and muscles?"

"No, only skin..."

"And blood?"

"No..."

"Then stay out of my way. Wait outside. No, wait; here, take that and find out if he has been poisoned. Use the apparature in the back."

Poppy gave her a blood-soaked piece of Snape's robe. While Hermione hurried to the small lab to analyse the blood, she heard the doors to the hospital wing being thrown open and hurried footsteps. She concentrated on her task and tried out all spells and potions that indicated a poison she knew; next door, she heard the headmaster's low and concerned voice and Poppy's angry one answering. She didn't understand what was said, and before she could listen more intensly, she got a reaction to one of her spells: The blood on the piece of cloth turned white. She stormed out to Poppy.

"It's wolfsbane, they poisoned him with wolfsbane. Six gramms, I think."

Dumbledore turned to her, fumbling a key from a huge keyring on his belt.

"This is the spare key to Severus' restricted stores, get the antidote."

Hermione grabbed the key and sprinted down to the dungeons. Harry joined her on her way, still looking as white as a wall.

"What's on? How's he?"

"Don't know. He's alive, and he's lost an eye. And he's been poisoned with wolfsbane."

They reached Snape's office, Hermione stormed in and fumbled with the key in front of the storage door. With her trembling hands she missed the keyhole and nearly dropped the key so that Harry took it out of her hands and unlocked the door for her. She frantically looked for the antidote, seconds stretching to unbearable mountains of wasted time, until she finally noticed the red bottle, neatly labelled and in its supposed place. She grabbed it and sped off, calling back to Harry over her shoulder: "Lock it and keep the key!"

Back in the hospital wing she handed the bottle to Poppy and stood now, trembling, next to the headmaster. He led her to a chair away from Snape's bed, and sat next to her.

"Hermione, listen. Have you seen any other person in the grounds? Or in the Forest? Did you hear anything before you found him?"

Hermione shook her head, supressing a sob. Now, as the status of alert faded, the shock filled in and brought her to tears again. Dumbledore patted her shoulder, searching in his robes for a handkerchief.

"Alright, I'll have to check that later. For now, Hermione, I want to thank you. You and Harry have saved Severus' life. It was very close, as far as Poppy could tell. I..."

He was interrupted by Poppy's loud swearing.

"...bloody hell! No Severus, fight it! Come on man! Shit! _Firmatio!_"

Hermione looked up; Snape had started to twitch and shiver like under an epileptic attack, and Poppy tried to steady him with her wand. Dumbledore rushed over to the bed and laid his hands on Snape's cheeks, muttering a strange sort of enchantment. After a few seconds the shivering faded; the headmaster hold on a bit longer, then gently stroked a stray of black hair out of Snape's sweat-covered face. Slowly, Hermione got up, noticing the sad look on the headmaster's face.

"What was that? What's up with him? Please..."

She heard her voice getting high pitched. Dumbledore turned to her, looking very old.

"He's not... he's... is he?" She was whimpering.

"No, he is not dead. I had to put him in a coma, otherwise he surely would have died. But I don't know when he will wake up again; that is, _if _he wakes up again. I can't control this coma. Now we can only hope that he'll recover."

Frightened Hermione looked over to Poppy; the nurse seemed shaken, too.

"He has the constitution of a horse, I think there is quite a chance that he'll come back.", she said numbly. Hermione nodded faintly, feeling numb. She cast a last glance at Snape's exhausted face, the expression of pain finally gone. Then she was led out by the headmaster. Outside the hospital wing, Harry was sill waiting for her with the small key in his hand. Dumbledore took the key back, then laid both hands on Hermione's shoulders, facing her once again.

"Please, Hermione, take a good long rest. Don't worry, we will see what the future holds. And Hermione... Don't tell anybody, that is something I have to do. And you too, Harry. Now, calm down. I'll see you at dinner, both of you."

With a small smile Dumbledore turned and went back, closing the doors firmly behind him. Hermione barely recognised Harry's arm around her shoulder, she just trailed next to him until they reached the portrait hole and climbed through. Luckily, most of the other students had already classes, so all they saw was a curios looking second-year, that didn't dare to ask something. Harry led Hermione to her room, making sure that she laid down. He almost was out of the door, when Hermione asked softly:

"What do you think happened?"

Harry hesitated; than he came back and sat next to her.

"I think he was discovered."

"Yes, me too. Did you notice that they... his arm... it was the left one."

"Hmm, with the Mark."

"Yes..."

They didn't say anything for a long time. Harry was sure that Hermione was asleep when she opened her eyes suddenly.

"But why?"

"Why?! What did you expect them doing, in the case they found out? Let him travel back in peace like..."

"No, I mean, why have they brought him back? And still alive, even if just at the edge?"

"Do you think they wanted him to be found?"

"Exactly. But why? Do they have a plan connected with it?"

"Don't know. Perhaps they just wanted us to watch him dying..."

"Hmm, maybe; Poppy had much difficulties with his injuries. And now he is in coma."

Suddenly she cried again, silently. Harry stroked her back, hoping that he would be able to calm her. It was strange, the whole past six years he would have been glad to get rid of Snape and his cruel, loathing attitude towards him; but now, the castle seemed empty, lost of Snape's present.

While he stroked Hermione's back, trying to calm her, Harry remembered the incidents from his first year till today and tried to imagine them without Snape. He heavily failed. It seemed as if Snape had been there all the time to watch and, if necessary, to interfer when he'd seen a danger coming across. Harry even didn't know by now how many times Snape had saved his life, during schooltime and in the holidays as well. No doubt that he had been on his guard for him, even if Harry didn't notice. And now Snape was the one in danger; and he, Harry, could do nothing! A burning rage spread through his body: If he just could face those torturers, and give them a good, damn old-fashioned beating! A stir from Hermione caught his attention. She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Damn, I forgot Ancient Runes! That's the first time I'll be late..."

Harry pushed her gently back to the bed.

"Are you mad? Just stay here, I think no one will flame you for that. Certainly Dumbledore has already excused us."

Hermione stared wearily on him. "You're right. I... I just want to do something."

"Me too. What do you think about breakfast?"

"Harry! How can you think about food right now?!"

"Well, I think we should eat something because it's half past ten already and we won't be of any use if we refuse to eat until Snape has recovered. Come, let's go downstairs. Oh, and we have to tell Ron! He'll be offended if he hears this story from Dumbledore first."

Hermione nodded finally and joined him on his way to the Great Hall.


	6. 6

Chapter 6

Hermione had never seen Ron so confirmed as after they told him how they had found Snape earlier that morning.

"But... He's alive? Does Dumbledore know who has done that? But... how is that possible? I mean... I never thought that he'll be discovered."

"No one of us did that but it has happened. Now, can we do anything to help him?"

Harry and Ron looked at her in suprise.

"Don't you think he's in best hands with Poppy?" Harry asked.

"Sure, but I want to do something. I just can't sit here and wait of something to happen. And..."

Hermione wasn't sure if she really should tell that her best friends; but otherwise, they would understand her and why she felt so miserable. She sighed, and looked at her waiting friends. "Well, you know; Snape has somehow... got closer to me, with this accident last Wednesday... I'll tell you later about it. I don't know why, but I trust him. And he respects my abilities. Will you still speak with me now?", she asked with a loop-sided grin. Ron looked at her unbelievingly, but sighed then and smiled. Harry pulled her in an one-arm embrace and smiled at her, too.

"No, you know, we will ban you on the highest tower and starve you!", he laughed.

"Perhaps Poppy will let you visit him tomorrow. At least she should tell you how he is. Do you want us to accompany you?"

Hermione smiled at Ron; that he took it so easy meant a lot to her.

"Yeah. Hey, thank you boys. You're great help!" She pulled them both in an embrace, laughing.

"Alright. Now come, we can at least attend the afternoon-classes!" She already was up and dragged both boys with her. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron:

"Can you believe that?! This woman won't take a single chance to relax in her hole life! But don't forget that story you want to tell us!" Together they made their way back to the classrooms.

At dinner, Dubledore announced to the school that Professor Snape had been the victim of a Death Eater attack ("Not really a lie, though!", Ron whispered to Hermione) and that his constitution was critical but stable. A murmur of shock spread through the Hall, and the Slytherin students shouted question over question to the staff table, raising from their seats. "Look at Malfoy!" Harry said.

Hermione and Ron turned and searched the silvery blonde boy at his House table. He wore a face that showed shock and concern but Hermione couldn't help the impression that he was faking.

"Do you think he knew it right from the beginning? His father could have told him..." Ron turned to Harry.

"Maybe... But that would mean..."

"Right", Hermione cut in, "that means Draco will tell his father that Snape is still alive."

The trio looked at each other.

"Fine, we'll have an eye on that bastard! When he's going near to the hospital wing, we'll watch and disturb him if neccesary." Harry responded grimly.

In the meantime Dumbledore had told the nervous students that he himself would take over Snape's position as Head of Slytherin, and that a pharmacist from St. Mungos' Hospital would be the substitutional potions teacher. Hermione still watched Draco; it seemed to her that he tried hard to hide a malice grin while he whispered something to Crabbe. With disgust she turned round. The Gryffindor students were discussing excitedly the newest information and hardly watched her leaving the Great Hall. Ron followed her.

"Hermione? What's on? Where are you going?"

" I just can't simply sit there and watch the others buzzing around, spreading rumours about what has happened. I want to know. I'll try to visit him."

"But where is the point of visiting Snape when he's unconscious? He won't know that you're there."

"Oh Ron, that's stupid! You never know, perhaps he can hear everything around him! See, there are some Muggle studies with people who have been in coma, and some of those people tell that they heard their relatives and the doctors who were with them. So if Snape hears that there is someone, maybe he..."

Ron eyed her suspiciously: "Hermione? D'you know what I think?"

Suddenly Hermione felt her hands becoming wet; "He doesn't think that I have... have a _crush_ on Snape, does he?! That's so ridiculous... I'm just... well..."

"I think you are just too concerned because you found him, and now you feel responsible. But he's in best hands, you can't do anything to help now. Just calm down, he'll be fine."

"Ron, you haven't seen him; it was so - frightening. He has always been strong and superior, and the thought that something like that can happen to _him_... Really, it terrifies me."

Ron smiled softly, then strolled ahead.

"I see; so what's now, you want to visit him or not?"

She was surprised; had Ron just shown a real kind of sensibility? Smiling she followed him to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey shot a suspicious glare at them, and Hermione felt the well-known, inevitable sensation of shrinking back to a six-year old girl that always went ahead with that glare.

"So - may we?", she tried with her best puppy-like glance.

"No. Professor Snape needs tranquility to recover."

"But I helped you yesterday, you just can't me send away! I simply want to know how he is!" Hermione nearly cried, an odd feeling of panic in her stomach. Poppys expressions softened a bit.

"I understand, child, but he really needs rest. You two would be just too much trouble for him now."

Hermione shot a quick glance at Ron, who nodded slightly.

"And... if only I visit him?", she asked, daring her luck. Poppy just opened her mouth as the large doors behind her opened as well, and the headmaster appeared.

"I think that is a wonderful suggestion, Miss Granger. Don't worry, Poppy, some more and different company than me won't do him damage. Just remember to be quiet, right? In you go!"

Glad Hermione took the offer and hushed in. Ron winked at her and sat down on a chair outside to wait for her. Through the now closed doors Hermione could hear the nurse arguing with Dumbledore and his calming

"Not now, Poppy, later. I'll explain, but later."

"Hm? Explain? What?" Hermione wondered, but then her attention was drawn to the half-lit room on her left. Softly she approached the door and risked a shy look. Now that she was alone with the unconscious Snape, she felt embarrased. Certainly Snape would have kicked her out to remain unwatched; suddenly Hermione was sure he would not have wanted to be seen in this state. But otherwise, he couldn't complain at the moment, right? And she only wanted to look after him, she had done before, so where was the problem? Well, her hands became wet again and her pulse knocked hard in her temples, but that didn't mean anything - did it? She supressed the imagination that had came up when Ron looked at her meaningful some minutes before... With a start she shook off the thoughts and glimpsed in the shadowy room.

Snape laid on his back, breathing regularly. A bandage covered half of his face, another the stump of his left arm. This and his other arm laid on top of the blankets, with a bottle of medication hovering in the air for an infusion. Someone (Poppy, or, as Hermione suspected, the headmaster himself) had cut off his burned hair right below his ears. Bandages covered his neck and his shoulders as well and reached even further down below the blankets. Softly Hermione stepped closer. He still looked exhausted, and a thin film of sweat on his forehead proofed her impression right that he was still on the edge. Hermione raised a hand and brushed some strains of hair out of his face. Like Wednesday evening she kept stroking his cheek, hoping helplessly that it would help as it had once before. After some minutes she settled herself cautiously next to Snape on the edge of the bed, not interrupting the contact. She noticed a large bottle on the bedside table and identified it as an advanced version of Skele-Grow. Obviously Poppy tried to re-grow Snape's arm, as well as his eye. Absently Hermione brushed through Snape's shortened hair. A short shiver from him made her start. Hastily she bend closer to him and watched his eyebrows contracting slightly. Suddenly his eyes flew open, focused on her, and then Hermione let slip a small squeak when his hand grasped her at the collar of her robes. Forcely he drew himself up to her, fresh pain flashing in his eyes. Hermione was paralysed by his burning stare, and suddenly recognised that he tried to tell her something. She leaned even closer to catch his hoarse whisper.

"Hän suunitee... Harry - pimeät...eliöt... hän kerää heidän valtaa..."

Snape's eyes rolled to the white, and he sunk back. Shaken Hermione rearranged his blankets, confused about what she had heard. The language Snape had spoken was completely foreign to her, and she hadn't understood a single word. Wait - something about Harry. But that was it. She tried to remember the foreign words, but the throaty vowels and rolled r's got all mixed up in her memory. It struck her that she had to inform Madame Pomfrey about Snape's sudden and short awakening. Luckily his breath was steady and regular as before, but surely the nurse wanted to check him after that again. After a last stroke through his hair with a shivering hand, Hermione tore out of the room to find Madame Pomfrey.


	7. 7

Chapter 7

Luckily Hermione found the nurse in her office close to the bedrooms. As fast as she managed she reported everything what had happened, and returned with Poppy to Snape's room.

"Please contact Dumbledore through the fireplace in my office, he have to know about this."

Hermione did as she was told, and a few moments later the headmaster arrived at the hospital wing. Concerned but with a soothing smile he went towards her for an interrogation. When Hermione came to the part with the unknown language, Dumbledore cut in.

"Hermione, can you try and repeat some of the words? This is very important as you certainly know."

Hermione concentrated hard, tried to summon the hoarsely sound and the unfamiliar melody of what Snape had said.

"It was like... 'sounytee... han kerra valta...; he said some more, but I can't remember. Oh, and he said 'Harry'."

The headmaster repeated the words quietly to himself.

"Hmm, it seems that my Finnish hasn't improved over the years; I'll have to check the words in a dictionary."

He noticed the confused look on Hermione's face, and chuckled softly.

"Yes, I'll better explain. Let's take a seat. Right - Professor Snape grew up bilingual, his father was from Britain, his mother from Finnland. He lived with her in Finnland till his sixth birthday, near to the city Tampere in the south-west of Finnland. Naturally he spoke more Finnish that time, for he saw his English speaking father only on weekends because of his position in the Ministry of Magic in Britain. It seems now that Professor Snape goes back to his primary language in this state of consciousness. But this short awakening and the fact that he was still able to speak makes me hope the best possible."

Hermione was silent for a while and tried to sort out her thoughts about this new pieces of information.

"Is that the reason of his research in language potions?"

The headmaster nodded. "He loves the Finnish language more than English, but it is very hard to learn and requires a lot of training. He once said that an adult who learns Finnish as a foreign language needs at least five years to just learn all aspects of the grammar, and additional five to seven years to speak it in a way that daily life and conversation requires. I tried to learn it myself for several years, but as I told you, I have become a little rusty."

"So Professor Snape tries to create a potion that makes it possible to understand him when he is speaking his favourite language?"

"That is not his main attempt. The goal is a potion which enables the user to, well, _feel_ the right grammar and the structure of foreign languages as every speaker does it automatically with his mother tongue. That would be a great help in learning foreign languages. In fact, with such a potion the user would be able to learn any language in the same way as his mother tongue, just by listening, repeating and - feeling his way into the language."

"I understand. I think it would be useful right now, perhaps we would know then what he was talking about..."

Dumbledore clapped himself playfully on the forehead. "Good that you remember me! I have to check those words you heard. Please return to your common room now, it is already very late."

Hermione got up and shot a last glance across the room to the Potions Professor. Madame Pomfrey hadn't found another sign of consciousness and was checking him over at the moment. Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed that the headmaster was watching her with an odd, penetrating look she actually could feel resting on her face. With an irritated smile towards Dumbledore she went out of the hospital wing and nearly jumped when she saw Ron sitting just outside the doors. She actually had forgotten that he was waiting for her!

"So, how is he now?" he asked and followed her back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Let's get back first, Harry will want to know that, too. But I can tell you, I really have some sort of news!"

It was late in the evening when Hermione and the boys finished their discussions about the latest events. Ron did his best to inform his friends about everything he knew himself:

"It's not much I know though, the Snape family isn't too keen on getting into focus of attention. The family is as old as we Weasleys and the Malfoys, and also pureblood. The difference is that their roots are somewhere in Arabia, not Britain."

"And how does Snape's Finnish mother fits in there?", Harry asked.

Ron wrinkled his nose. "Dad told me once a bit about it; Snape's father, Lord Snape, was the minister for international affairs at the Ministry of Magic. I think that was the way how he met Snape's mother in Finland. Her name was Sinikka Lahtinen and she..."

Hermione gasped: "_Sinikka Lahtinen_ is _Snape's_ mother?!"

Harry looked from one to the other, perplexed. "Don't tell me you know her, Hermione..."

"Of course not, she died more than thirty years ago. But if you read anything about spell-research, you'll come across that name constantly. She was famous for her researches on the field of spells that used the power of elements. I think she was a specialist for ice-spells. All element-bound spells are highly advanced, they are taught only at special training centres in Scandinavia."

Ron nodded and continued:

"As you said, she died thirty ore even more years ago. There are rumours that she was killed because she refused to alter her spells to ones which could be used as a tool for mass extermination, or as "first strike weapons" in a war. The old Lord Snape somehow broke because of her death, and was one of the first to join the Death Eaters. Well, that's all what Dad told me about Snape. I think Professor Snape is the only one left of the family, his father must have died... oh, perhaps about twenty years ago."

They sat silently for a few moments. Hermione could tell from the expressions on Harry's face that he pondered about how old Snape had been when his parents died, considering the fact that he was the same age as Harry's parents had been. Not more than five years old, perhaps six? And ten or so years later he had lost his father. Hermione could nearly feel how uncomfortable familiar that sounded to Harry.

Suddenly she couldn't stand it anymore. Restless she got to her feet, pulling Harry with her.

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

"I want to borrow your cloak again. Come, upstairs!"

She dragged him to the boy's dormitory. Grumbling Harry went inside and returned short after with his Invisibility Cloak.

"And what are you going to do with it? The staff has searched the grounds already, you won't find anything more."

"I don't want to go to the grounds; I go into the hospital wing. Perhaps Snape'll say something more if..." Hermione stopped. "If I touch him again.", she had intended to say. But somehow she had the impression it would have sounded awkward to Harry.

"... if he senses someone around him."

Questioning glance from Harry.

"Well, if you think so... Good luck."

A few minutes later Hermione was on her way to the infirmary. With her knowledge about the many secret passages, she was able to go down without meeting anyone. She stopped in front of the large doors of the hospital wing, unsure if they possibly were guarded. She tried her standard 'Alohomora', but this time it failed her. Well, at least she hadn't triggered any repulsing or guardian charms... Some minutes and a couple of different spells later, the doors creaked open a tiny bit. Hermione wept sweat off her forehead, and after a few seconds of listening she was sure to be undetected. Silently she stepped inside. The stars and the moonlight shone through the large windows in the main bedroom and covered everything with a silvery gleaming. Hermione tiptoed to the door to Snape's room, listening carefully before she opened the door and stepped in.

This room was completely dark, the heavy curtains shielded it against the bright moon outside. Hermione's eyes needed a few moments to adjust themselves to the darkness; during that time Snape's light and regular breathing was all she recognised. Slowly she could make out the outlines of the furniture in the small room, and after that the lines of Snape's body under the white hospital-blankets as well. Suppressing any sound and sudden movement Hermione stepped closer. Really, he just looked asleep; the exhausted and pained expression was gone, instead he seemed relaxed and surprisingly young. The deep lines on his forehead and around his eyes were softened, and in the nearly absence of light the many little stress-lines were barely visible. She suppressed a shudder when her eyes fell on the remainigs of his left arm; it seemed that Madame Pomfrey had treated him with an advanced Skele-Grow potion, for the bandages already formed the outline of an underarm. The missing part would regrow in layers, bones first, then senews, nervs, muscles and so on. But of course the procedure would take at least a month. Hermione began to stroke his cheek again, slowly and carefully. To her disappointment Snape didn't show any sign of noticing her, not even when she sat down on the bed next to him. His breath still came regularly, and slowly, very slowly, Hermione became hypnotised while she kept stroking his face. Her eyelids dropped some minutes later; for a short time she struggled against her need of sleep, but in the end she bend forwards and leaned her head against Snape's shoulder. A comforting warmth and soft blankets greeted her. With the smell of clean, fresh sheets and warm, earthy patchouly in her nose, Hermione snuggled closer to his neck and drifted into sleep.

"_MISS GRANGER!_ Is there any possible explanation for your presence in this room, or with this patient?!"

Hermione jumped at the yell, awakening with a start and a quick grasp at Harry's cloak. The filigrane fabric dangled somewhere on her hips, it had slipped down during the night. Cursing the cloak and herself mentally, Hermione struggled the now useless thing off her legs, slided off the bed and turned to face the fuming nurse sheepishly.

"Um... Actually... no. There is no reason. I just... had the feeling that I should be here."

Poppy looked torn between fury and mildness. Hermione shrunk again under her stare and felt spreading numbness in her back. It hadn't been very comfortable to sleep on the edge of the bed, in a half sitting position, and now her back cried for relaxation. Before she could say anything else, Poppy inhaled sharply and rushed past her to the bed. Hermione turned and watched the nurse buzzing about Snape's unconscious form, eyeing suspiciously a kind of glass-table which Hermione now noticed floating at the other side of Snape's bed. It presented some data, curves and coloured stripes which seemed to give information about Snape's status of health. After a while, Poppy turned back to Hermione and gave her an inquisitive look.

"What exactly have you done while you were here?"

Hermione gaped at her.

"N.. Nothing! I just sat down and looked at him, and later I fell asleep."

Somehow she had the feeling that telling the nurse she had touched Snape wouldn't count to her advantage.

Madame Pomfrey was about to retort something when the doors to the hospital wing opened and Albus Dumbledore arrived.

Draco made sure that nobody could observe him by chanting some complex spells about his bedroom. Every time he did so he was surprised that this spells didn't trigger some sort of alarm, for they were vicious kinds of dark magic and surely not covered by the curriculum. When he had finished, he slumped in a black velveteen armchair and drew a piece of parchment out of his pocket. His own family seal combined with a black serpent wound around it made him shiver with excitement, and was the main reason of all the safety measures. Carefully he broke the seal and with increasing curiosity he unfolded the letter.

"My son,

your recent news have arrived at the right time. Although the traitor is still alive, as you told me, our Lord has decided to leave him be at the moment, for He has more important aims to reach now. Nevertheless, you are commanded to further observations of his state. Should he awake again, your activity is required immediately. In this purpose, you are free to chose the adequate means.

One more thing: The werewolf has escaped his guards the last night, using his brutal forces, and our Lord wants you to report immediately if he shows up in your school, as this is the most likely place where he will heading for.

You see, we all are pleased with your work; keep it that way!

Your father Lucius Malfoy"

Draco exhaled deeply, a smug and satisfied smile playing around his lips. He hid the letter carefully in his magical sealed trunk, then returned to his armchair. He took some time in mentally picturing various ways of getting rid off the traitor - his former Potions Master. He liked to think of him in this way already, stressing the _former_... Draco had never ever thought that, of all persons, Severus Snape had been the one who had hindered and sabotaged so many of the Dark Lord's actions. Snape had in fact been one of the Quadrigium, the leading instance beyond the Death Eaters organisation - together with Draco's father, Zabini and MacMillan. Snape had been Draco's idol when he was a child; well, in a way he had been during school time, too, but with the years Draco had seen how his teacher had to play his role as "harmless, yet sharp-tongued Ex-Death Eater" way too long to have a decent basis to identify himself with the dark and powerful older man. Even if Snape had ever been more interested in and, in a way, caring about him than his own father, his (necessary) masquerade in school had created a distance between them. But nevertheless, Draco had been shocked when his father told him that they finally had eliminated the loophole, and who it had been. In a way, he had lost the ground under his feet, feeling as if the last comforting resort in his life were drowned in cold. Well, in a way it had been so. But of course Draco had not shown that to his father, every emotion _towards_ a traitor was c lose to suicide. When he was alone in his rooms, however, the sadness had come with might. He wasn't able to imagine that he wouldn't see Snape again, that there would be a different Potions Master soon teaching at Hogwarts. After a while, the sadness had faded and was replaced with burning rage and hatred. But Draco had no idea, who it was his rage was aiming at: Snape (for betraying him during all those years), his father (who had of course taken the execution in his own hands), Dumbledore (for turning "his" Snape against the Dark Lord), himself (for betraying his feelings for the fatherlike man in front of his own father), or, at last, at the Dark Lord himself for causing so much pain even under his followers. In the end, Draco had built up a wall of hatred and aggression around him that even surprised his own Slytherin classmates. And now, just yesterday, the Headmaster had told them all that Snape was still alive... Barely, that for sure, but nevertheless alive. Draco's stomach had gone stone hard when he heard the news the other day, and almost immediately he had seen his chance for revenge. He yet had to figure out how he would like to proceed from now. Of course he had to wait until Snape gained consciousness again, otherwise it wouldn't be a revenge, but mercy. According to the headmaster, this could take some time. Time that he had to wave a perfect plan...

Lämpö..._(warmth)_...niin pehmeää... _(so soft)_...tuoksu... _(the scent)_...äänit... _(voices)_...en ymmärrä... _(I don't understand)..._

_Darkness, in various shadows, was swirling around him ... as well as the words, whispering to him, mingling - the first clear and familiar, the others barely audible, floating under the surface of the first, drifting into oblivion ... pictures coming into focus and fading again ... some flashes ... some of them red, some ice-blue ...pain, bone-splitting pain ... a cold voice ... wet earth under his fingers, under his cheek ... dark red clouds blurring his visions ... then again, darkness..._

Hermione listened to the murmured discussion between Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey, uneasy about the result. Of course, she had disobeyed the nurse with coming back to the infirmary at night, but she didn't do anything to harm Snape - at least she hoped she hadn't, regarding Poppy's expression when she read those charts about Snape's condition. She started when she heard steps behind her, and turned around quickly. Professor Dumbledore stood behind her, the usual twinkle back in his eyes, and he addressed her.

"Miss Granger, I'm honoured to tell you that you are an official part of therapy now. As Poppy told me, Professor Snape's brain activity has increased with remarkable speed; she believes that regular contact, as you created it, may help him to find his way back into our world. So, if you agree, you are allowed to come here every day for at least four hours to try and contact him. You are also allowed to use your Time Turner to have enough time for homework and your duties as Head Girl, as well as for sleep and free time."

Dumbledore said the latter with even more twinkles in his eyes. Hermione had blushed with excitement; so she could actually DO something!


	8. 8

Chapter 8

Harry and Ron stared at her when Hermione told them about the recent events in the hospital wing. The boys stopped picking at their dinner, exchanged quick looks and looked back to Hermione again, obviously lost for words.

"Um, Hermione... Are you really telling us that you _want_ to stay with tha... with Snape?!"

"I'm surprised Ron, yesterday you seemed to understand that I want to help him!" Hermione snapped.

"Right, but yesterday you were still under shock. Now I think you have gone mad, if you want to sit by his side and hold hands! If you ask _me_..."

"But I'm _not_ asking you! I don't have to excuse myself to you! I really thought you had come to senses with your stupid prejudices, but now..."

Harry interfered when both Ron and Hermione started to shout at each other.

"Calm down, both of you! You'll entertain the whole school if you continue this soap opera! Look Ron, if she can help Snape to snap out of that coma, I think it's alright she tries. And Hermione, please don't expect us to do summersaults out of joy."

Hermione glared at her friends, then turned and stomped out of the hall. Since when had she to defend her actions and decisions in front of them?! But below her anger she knew that she had to give both of them time to deal with the situation; shouting and rowing wouldn't help to that. Calming down slowly she turned her steps towards the hospital wing.

_The voice... there it was again! Warmth. Softness. And the voice, speaking to... him? Why? Did it know him? He didn't understand what it said. Where did it come from? He wanted to see... He wanted to follow the voice but it was everywhere around him, wrapping him in soothing. Then he felt it - the voice spoke again, and he felt - sadness. The sadness directed him through the darkness like an arrow. He started to feel his way, listening to the warmth, holding on to the ray of sadness - where ever it might lead him._

Hermione did not part from Snape's bed except for classes for the next two weeks. Winky brought her the meals, and she did her homework on a small table next to her visitor's chair. During the rest of the day she helped Madame Pomfrey to take care of the quiet patient, or buried herself in research. She had tried to finish the concept of Snape's Lingua Franca Potion but had hit dead-ends where ever she had turned. After the 20th book that had told her that the relation between languages and the human mind were far too complex to be decoded to the very end, she admitted defeat with gritted teeth. It seemed that Snape had been able to think around eight corners, Hermione could tell this out of his notes and out of the linguistic books she had read so far. His basic idea had been to influence the two main language areas in the brain, the Wernicke and the Broca area. One part of the potion was supposed to safe the already existing knowledge about languages and language competences the user already possessed, the second part should transform the inner structure of those brain areas back to a state which would allow learning other languages following the "Innateness-Theory" by the linguist Chomsky: By listening and, even more, by trying and speaking the language. It was a highly fascinating area Snape had chosen but even more dangerous. Manipulating the memory or even the mind of a person was risky enough and recommended great experience, but Snape was operating at the organic level of the brain as such - the consequences of a wrongly brewed or dosed potion which was supposed to alter the brain physically would be a catastrophy. Additional to those handicaps stood the question of how _exactly_ language and mind/brain were connected, or dependent. And up to the present day there was no answer to that. There were speculations, small empirical indices and hints of single processes and structures, but no one had been able to reveal the universal mechanisms up to now - if they existed. And it looked as if it wouldn't be done in close future either.

Hermione suspected that Snape had been trodding on the same point quite a while because the way about the organic brain manipulation to imitate the child's language acquisition (and it wasn't anything else than that) seemed like born out of lack of possibilities to Hermione; it was far too radical. She laid the book aside and looked over to the still unconscious potions master. A new wave of sadness washed over her. He looked - and was - so helpless that it hurt her physically. She remembered thinking of him as in this old Chinese saying about the oak and the bamboo. "The oak may resist the storms but someday it will break under the force. The bamboo bends to the storms but afterwards it is cleaned and whole, and can live." Cho had told about it in Muggle Studies, and Hermione had immediately thought of the unreadable potions master as the bamboo. Currently she was wondering if she had been right with this assumption; maybe there were storms that could even tear the bamboo out of its roots.

Night had fallen again over Hogwarts, and Hermione watched the moonlight dancing through the windows. In the silvery, surreal light Snape's face appeared to be perfectly white, the black eyebrows and lashes artfully painted lines, framed by the raven black hair which Dumbledore had cut into a handsome Men's short-cut with a flick of his wand, removing the burned strands as the reminders of the torture. Hermione couldn't help herself; the soft breathing, the beautiful contrast of light and darkness, and the still sense-able trace of sandalwood draw her closer. She snuggled onto the cover next to him, placing her head on his shoulder with her face to his neck and savoured scent, warmth and the faintest smell of his skin. From her lying position she could see the clouds drifting in front of the moon through the open window, making the light dance on the white curtains of the hospital wing. A soft spring breeze billowed the curtains, breathing crisp and spicy air into the room. Nearly dreaming Hermione remembered a tune, slow, longing, dark and powerful. She started humming softly, watching the moon and the clouds through half-closed eyelids.

"...and nothing else matters..."

She already slept when Snape leaned his cheek against her forehead.

She dreamed...

Everything was black. She turned and turned, but there was no light in this thick and heavy darkness. With all her Gryffindor courage she took a step forward - and felt solid ground under her feet. She started to walk slowly, listening intensely into the darkness - nothing. She heard no single sound; the silence was deafening and a pressure against her ears. She tried to call something - or someone - but no sound escaped. She kept walking slowly, blind and deaf.

"Is this how Snape feels at the moment?" she wondered, and right after it wondered why she had thought this. Without warning she was swept off the ground, and she felt a mighty, silent storm rushing over her, hurtling her into a new direction - or thousand directions at once, she couldn't tell. She wasn't even able to tell if she was still upright, or even breathing; she couldn't hear nor feel her own heartbeat. The storm changed its direction every split of a second, blowing into her face, then rushing her sideways, slamming down on her... She couldn't barely stand it any longer when she was hauled into a halt that knocked the breath out of her - at least it felt like that. She felt like hovering in midair and lying on the floor at the same time. Then she noticed something - a sort of movement. There was a slight, but constant movement in the blackness, something fluttering. She concentrated on the spot where she had seen it, and slowly, as in one of those surrealistic paintings by Dalí, she began to see an outline. The outline widened and developed into the image of a person, then it gained the third dimension. The person turned slowly - or was Hermione travelling around the person? She believed the latter because a moment later she looked at the person from the profile and noticed the strange position the person was in. Hermione inhaled sharply but still there was no sound. It was Snape; but he couldn't have moved, for he kneeled on the ground as if he were praying.

"Praying? Look, is this a prying position?" Hermione advised herself.

Snape kneeled but only on one knee; his left leg was bend in front of him, and his weight seemed to be put on his heel instead of on the knee. His back was straight, his face tipped upwards and his eyes were closed. He held his arms outstretched to his sides, with his palms turned upwards. Hermione remembered suddenly where she had seen this posture before: She had read about the old Germanic religions in Europe and Britain, and the picture of a statuette of a praying warrior in exactly the same position had impressed her. She recalled the explanation following the picture: It was the proud, yet self-exposing praying-position to Odin, the god of Life and Death. Hermione wondered why Snape prayed to the old Germanic god but then became aware of the more subtle details that had made her think of a surrealistic painting in the first way: Snape was clad in his usual black trousers but despite that he was naked. His body had switched black and white like the negative of a Muggle photography. As Hermione wached she grew certain that he was not praying; it looked more likely he was performing a magic ritual. Once she had thought that Hermione saw the magical power waving over his black bare chest, his hands and face like circles on water surface. The greenish-silvery powerwaves enlightened his chest and face for brief moments and made his snow-white hair, shoulder-long again, fanning out behind him like a flag in the wind.

Hermione was hypnotized by the beauty and the feeling of raw power she saw personified. She reached out, standing now in front of him, with his face levelling her solarplexus, and touched his cheek. A shock of pure arcane energy slammed into her body like lightening, and Snape opened his eyes. Hermione tried to draw away in her shock but found she couldn't; instead she looked straight into Snape's brilliant white eyes, pupils and iris in stark contrast to their pitch-black surrounding. Despite the bottomless white of his eyes Hermione could see her own mirror-image in them, and found that she was the exact opposite to Snape: Her face and hands shone in blending white while her hair and eyes had darkened and seemed as black as his had been. She watched the same waves of power rolling over her in the mirror of Snape's eyes, and immediately felt a deep and painful, dark desire that forced her closer and closer to Snape. He had watched her the whole time without moving or blinking. She bent down to kiss him, sparks and electric bows crossing between their lips, and when their lips touched, her head and body seemed to explode with white-glowing blindness and pain.


	9. 9

Chapter 9

Hermione awoke with a strangled cry and jerked her arm up to protect her eyes from the incoming light. Slowly her mind settled back into reality, and she found out that the unbearable light shone straight through the window of Snape's hospital room into her face.

Hermione blinked the multicoloured afterimages away and sat up. A look out of the window told her that it was indeed morning again, and the sun shone brightly down on the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione felt irritated and thrown off balance when she remembered her more than creepy dream. She could still feel the prickling waves on her skin and the, now fading, hot desire in her lower body. She shook her head violently and suppressed a shudder. She would think about that dream later, after a long hot shower and a rich breakfast. She turned around to check the various lines and lights that showed Snape's health status - and found the potions Master looking at her. Hermione let out a small squeak and hurried to slide off the bed. With a shaking hand and a wide spreading smile she felt his temperature. Snape followed her with his eyes but seemed too exhausted to move further.

"I'm so glad you woke up finally, Professor! We were all terrified and sick of worry. Please try to stay awake a few moments, I have to get Madam Pomfrey. I'll be back in a second!"

With that she stormed out of the room and into Poppy's office. The nurse was preparing another potion for Snape's regrowing arm when Hermione burst in.

"He's awake! Come, quick, he woke up just this moment!"

Poppy nearly dropped the vial she was holding and run after Hermione, who had already raced back. Snape watched them enter the room together but after some seconds directed his gaze towards Hermione again. He followed her every movement while she took a seat next to him. The nurse investigated him quickly.

"Thank god, Severus, I think you've made it; the worst is over. All you have to do now is rest. Severus? Have you heard what I've said? Severus?"

This was odd; the Potions Master didn't react to his name, although Hermione was sure he had heard the nurse's voice: He had turned his head when she started to speak. Now he turned back and looked up to Hermione again, and she could see the exhaustion in his eyes. He closed his eyes, and a few moments later he was asleep again.

Poppy watched this with furrowed brows.

"I have the impression that he didn't understand what I've said. Maybe he was still too tired. His dates say that he is fats asleep now, I think he will wake up in a few hours again. Do you still want to stay here, Miss Granger? I have to inform the headmaster immediately, so if you excuse me..."

The nurse was too excited to bother with an answer from Hermione, and so she just nodded happily and drew her chair closer to the bed. She heard the doors of the hospital wing being opened and shut, and directed her attention back to Snape. His brief wake moment had made up a lot for the desperate hours Hermione had kept him company. She took his hand carefully in her own and gently stroked its back. She laughed softly when he pressed her hand lightly in response, and she felt tears dwelling in her eyes. A long time she had not received a single life-sign from him.

Only a few minutes later was the nurse back, with Dumbledore and Professor MacGonagall right behind her. Hermione told them happily what had happened earlier, and Dumbledore beamed at her while Professor MacGonagall tabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Miss Granger, I have to thank you once again for Severus' life. I'm very sure that he had not recovered so quickly without your presence. Although he would never admit that, I reckon."

The headmaster twinkled at her and looked again at the sleeping potions master. Hermione was startled.

"Thank you, Sir, but I don't think that I played such a big role in his awakening. I was only sitting here, how can he possibly have been aware of me?"

She decided to remain silent about her frequently held naps next to him, sure that Madame Pomfrey wouldn't be too amused by that.

Dumbledore still sat on the edge of Snape's bed, stroking his cheek gently and smiling down on him. Hermione suddenly got the impression of father and son; certainly was Dumbledore more to Snape than the headmaster, and now she saw clearly that, in the opposite direction, Snape was more to Dumbledore than the once rescued and now protected young man and teacher. Professor MacGonagall blew her nose next to Hermione's ear, and the noise pulled her back to the present. Dumbledore had turned to her again, obviously in response to her last statement.

"Well, Miss Granger, even if you have been "only present" in the last two and a half weeks, it seems that Severus _has_ been aware of you. Otherwise he would not be fixed on you, as Poppy told me."

"What? But... how... why?"

"Poppy noticed that he was looking at you the whole time, except when you did nothing and she was speaking to him. Once you both did something, or nothing, his attention was on you. I think that shows clearly how important you have been to him, otherwise he wouldn't have responded so clearly to you."

Hermione considered this, not knowing what to say. Luckily, she needn't.

"I suggest we wait until Severus wakes up again. Maybe he is able to recognise the rest of us, then. Miss Granger, I would highly appreciate your company, if you are not too tired..."

Again the headmaster twinkled at her, and Hermione felt herself blushing.

_How in the hell can he possibly know that?! Or is he just guessing?_

"Of course Professor, it's a pleasure to join you."

Professor MacGonagall excused herself an hour later, she still had some classes to teach, and Poppy choose to check on Snape in regular intervals, giving the headmaster and Hermione time to talk. They talked mostly about Snape's latest potions project, and what Hermione had found out, or rather had not found out.

Finally Hermione sighed in frustration.

"I wish there were a substance or anything which could be loaded with any charm or spell - or better, with an idea or wish, safe that idea and integrate it into the potion itself. That would be a solution. No need to understand the connection between language and mind, only the wish to understand and speak all languages - and the potion would work. There isn't such a substance by chance, is it?" she asked with amused irony.

Dumbledore chuckled.

"In theory there is, but I'm afraid it will stay theory."

He leaned back, crossing his hands and looking to the ceiling while recalling the story.

"It was thought about a substance combined out of the three ways of magic: The white, the grey and the black or dark magic. The theory says that if it were possible to unite those three ways, the result would be an energy so pure and powerful that it could be thought as the manifestation of magic itself - or, the Essence of Magic, as it is called. This Essence would be able to safe or store such a wish, as you put it, and in the further production of the potion it would be able to embed the stored wish into the potion itself. But, as I've told you, it is only a theory. A fascinating and philosophical one, but nobody can imagine how the combination of the magical ways should be done, what would be necessary, which type of spell would be required and so on. As you see, it is a very intriguing mental experiment. But in regard of your potions project I have to disappoint you."

The headmaster smiled at Hermione who smiled back and investigated this new piece of information eagerly. Dumbledore was right, it _was_ an intriguing riddle. She wished again that it was just more than that when Snape stirred.

Immediately her attention was back at the Potions Master, as well as Dumbledore's. Snape opened his eyes a few moments later and looked at them, with a blank expression on his face. Dumbledore smiled warmly.

"Severus. I'm relieved you are with us again. How are you? Can I do something for you?"

Snape looked at both of them, and managed to speak with a voice hoarse from misuse.

"Mikä?"

Draco sat separated from the other Slytherins in his favourite armchair in a corner of the common room. He was lost in thought, and the other students knew very well not to interrupt his musings. The news of Professor Snape's awakening had spread like a wildfire; Draco had lost his chance of revenge. He choose not to think about the consequences he had to bear for this at the moment. But what had caused his foul mood was something different: Yes, he had missed the opportunity to seek the revenge on Snape for his betrayal. But when the headmaster had announced the good news at breakfast today, Draco had been relieved and outraged at the same time. And this disturbed him. How could he be relieved when the traitor lived on? Draco tried once again hard to push the memories aside which showed him the professor visiting him at home in Malfoy Manor, teaching him how to fly on a broom, playing Quidditch with him (and even soccer, at a time when an eight year old Draco had been fascinated by the Muggle sport) and later chess. Snape had been the one who had taught him reading, the one to witness Draco's first signs of magic and the one who knew Draco's favourite sweets and stuff like that. Snape had substituted Draco's father in many ways for the boy. While Lucius had been distant, demanding and almighty in Draco's eyes, someone he had adored and feared at the same time, had Snape been the one who had actually cared for him as a person, not as the only heir of the old family the Malfoys were. Draco did never need to impress Snape to be recognised and... well, loved. Draco had been certain that Snape had loved him in some way, as well as Draco had loved the professor. He smiled darkly at that thought. Yes, Lucius was his father, and Severus his dad. So why had he done that to him? Why had he switched sides to spy for that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore? And why that charade, why hadn't he told Draco about it? He found that this was what hurt most. Draco had always trusted Snape with _his_ thoughts. He turned the question over and over. Why hadn't he told him anything? Didn't he trust him at all? Or was it because of his father? Had Snape feared that Draco told his father about his turn away from the Dark Lord? Draco snorted with disgust but became uncertain. What had he done _if _Snape had told him about his function as a spy for the Light? Draco never talked with his father about personal affairs, or even his own doubts and emotions; he wasn't supposed to do so, and so he didn't do. Otherwise...

Draco knew exactly that he could not hide anything from his father if that man decided he wanted to know something. And last but not least Draco had been raised with the ideology of the dark Lord, and had been eyes and ears in Hogwarts in the last three years. Draco tried to imagine his reaction a few years earlier, when he hadn't known the implications of "serving" the Lord. He reckoned that he had been as angry as now at Snape's decision, but had not thought through it as he did now. Possibly his behaviour had changed, what had caused his father to questioning him; and he couldn't have resisted very long. It occurred to him that Snape had not only protected himself from being discovered, but also Draco from the mind-crushing interrogation by his father. Draco had to admit that that Snape had been wise not to trust him with this knowledge for the sake of both of them, although he admitted it with gritted teeth. He was furious with himself that he had been so predictable, even if it was for Snape who knew him better than his own parents. Draco did not know what to do now, and that added up to his fury. He wanted to talk to Snape, yell at him, demand an explanation, simply ask him if his care for him had been part of the masquerade, too. And, of course, why he had chosen to support Dumbledore. Draco was uncertain in that point; Snape had always been a highly reflected (and self-reflecting), intelligent man, for which Draco admired him, as well as for his talent of gaining insight and the use of the same to calculate problems as well as his environment. So... had Snape spotted something that made him sure the Dark Lord stood on the loosing side? Had he switched sides out of this reason, for self-protection, or for other reasons?

Draco longed to know the answer, he needed an explanation. He was lost in this matter, emotionally as well as intellectual. He simply didn't know what he should think of the whole situation. It did not help that Snape seemed still to be too weak to have visitors; although this did not count for that blasted mudblood Granger. Another point that added to his "fury-list". Maybe Dumbledore did not know how close Snape and he had been, but that Snape himself preferred Granger's company rather than his - it was unbearable!

Draco felt his anger dwelling in his throat again, and with a steely look in his eyes he jumped to his feet and stormed out of the room.

Had there been a mirror, he had found it amusing how he intuitively took over the body language and movements that were accustomed to an angry Snape.


	10. 10

Chapter 10

Dumbledore and Hermione exchanged worried looks.

"Severus? Can you understand what I say? Do you know where you are?"

"Mitä? En ymmärrä..."

Dumbledore turned to Hermione.

"It looks as if he has forgotten... English. It must have been a very hard shock if a whole language is inflicted..."

"Does that mean that he speaks only Finnish now? And can't understand a word in English?" Hermione asked uneasily.

Snape watched them speaking, but he really seemed to have no clue what was going on.

"Oh dear. I'll have to dig out the snippets I remember in Finnish... Let's see. Severus? Tiedätkö missä sinä olet?"

Snape looked hesitantly across the room, then to Hermione, and back to Dumbledore. Slowly he shook his head.

"Tiedätkö - er - nimeäsi? Tai minun?"

Snape seemed to concentrate, still watching them with a hint of reservation.

He shook his head again. "En muista..."

Dumbledore sighed heavily.

"As I've feared. Hermione, we have to find out to what extend his memory was damaged. That he doesn't remember English at all is a bad sign. I'll ask him what he remembers last..."

The headmaster searched for the foreign words again, but Snape seemed to understand his put-together-sentences. Hermione watched as the Potions Master furrowed his brows in concentration, and paled. His eyes grew wide and he looked at Dumbledore with creeping panic.

"Ei mitään." He said quietly.

Hermione didn't need a translation for the latter; from the looks on both Snape's and Dumbledore's faces she could tell that Snape couldn't remember anything. Snape himself looked utterly confused and afraid, and Hermione felt her heart squeeze. She watched how Dumbledore secretly tabbed his eyes with his sleeve. Then she heard angry voices coming closer, and a moment later the door to Snape's room was opened. Draco Malfoy stormein, Madame Pomfrey on his heels.

"Mister Malfoy, I won't tolerate this behaviour! Come back this instant!"

Draco ignored the ranting nurse and looked at Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore, I wanted to visit Professor Snape - "

"And I told him that it is impossible at the moment - "

"For everyone except Granger, isn't it?!" Draco spat.

Dumbledore stood up.

"Now, children, calm down please. Draco, I have to insist that you keep your voice down if you want to stay. And Poppy, don't worry, it's alright, I had planned to speak with Mr Malfoy soon afterwards, so it is good timing that he turned up right now. Please, have a seat, Draco."

Poppy went grumbling back into her office, and Draco found himself a chair. Snape watched all the tantrum with curiosity but didn't say anything. Draco couldn't restrain himself any further and turned to the Potions Master who had sat up in the meantime.

"Professor, why am I not allowed to visit you while Granger is? Have you forgotten..."

Draco interrupted himself and look accusingly, but also distressed at Snape who had only watched him in confusion. Dumbledore moved and sat down next to Draco.

"Draco, I'm well aware of the status Professor Snape has in your life, and that is why I thought it better for you not to visit him."

Draco looked alarmed, and Hermione felt sorry for him, but curious at the same time. Which status _had_ Snape in Draco's life?

"But headmaster, perhaps I could have helped him..."

"I'm afraid that is not the case, Draco. See... Professor Snape is awake again but he can't remember anything. He even can't speak English anymore, nor does he understand it. In these circumstances I thought it better for you not to see him, as you certainly have various questions to ask him. But he can't give you any answer at the moment, son."

Draco had become white as a wall and looked over to Snape with... desperation, Hermione noticed.

"But Professor, I _need_ to speak with him! I... I must..."

Draco shivered, Hermione couldn't tell if with anger or fear. He sat stunned enough to let Dumbledore put an arm around his shoulders.

"He really... can't remember? Not even... me?" Draco whispered; Hermione barely caught it.

Dumbledore shook his head gravely.

"Be patient, son. Maybe his memory comes back, we try everything that is in our might. And if you want to speak to or ask someone else, you know that you can always find me for a talk. Although I know you'd prefer Professor Snape."

Draco nodded faintly and looked sadly at Snape again, who looked back, but he held his face blank and gave no opportunity to tell if he recognised the boy.

"Come, children, I think it's for your best if you go to bed now. I'll try to tell Professor Snape something of what has happened. By the way, Draco, he never has spoken Finnish with you in your childhood, did he?"

Draco shook his head, casting a questioning look at the headmaster, then at Hermione.

"I thought so. Well, I hope to see you both tomorrow. Have a good night, and don't worry. Professor Snape will recover, I'm sure of that."

The headmaster accompanied them to the door and waved them goodbye. Then the both of them stood outside the hospital wing, not sure of what to say.

Finally Draco found something to ask, breaking the awkward silence.

"So; why were you allowed to be with him all the time?"

Hermione relaxed; that didn't sound as angry as it had been some minutes ago. She explained the whole situation to Draco, who kept a neutral expression all the time. When Hermione was finished, he nodded.

"I'll make you a deal, Granger. I stay out of your way in caring for Snape, and I'll keep you both out of the line of fire from my father. Your part will be to help Snape getting his memory back so that I can talk with him about... my business. Do you agree to these conditions?"

Hermione pondered Dracos suggestions. She was well aware of the danger, the thread of a new attack on Snape now it was clear he would live; she didn't doubt the honesty of Draco's motives either, but the question _was_ his motive. And she wasn't sure if Draco had enough influence on his father - or anyone else - to keep them in a kind of safety. She asked her question out loud, but Draco only snorted at her.

"I wouldn't offer something like this to someone if I couldn't make it. For the case you don't get it, Granger, this is not a game. It's politics of information, to put this way. And you can be pretty sure that I will not risk my life for a mudblood, or a useless spy, if I were not dead-serious about my possibilities. So decide, Granger. This is the only time I give you the opportunity to do so."

Hermione still wondered if she could really trust Draco; but he really looked dead-serious, and when she recalled his words, she couldn't find any ambiguity in them. That and the knowledge that they would have a binding contract on that matter convinced her. She held her hand out.

"Deal. You put your father on a wrong track, and I help Professor Snape to recover."

Draco gripped her hand and shook it firmly.

"Deal."

They both knew that an oral contract, sealed with shaking of hands, had its own magic power and would bind them both as well as a written one. They nodded at each other, and returned to their common rooms without looking back.

Hermione was already expected by Harry, Ron and Ginny, who burned to hear the news. Hermione gave them a summary of the events but she spared out the bit of hers and Draco's agreement. She knew exactly that the boys wouldn't trust Draco, no matter if they had a contract or not.

_"And", _Hermione thought, _"it is safer for us both if nobody else knows about this. Draco can operate behind the scene and I can continue to help Snape. We both will stick to the masquerade though, and nobody will get suspicious."_

Hermione saw the strategy of Draco's move now, although she still wondered why he was so extremely interested in Snape's memory. She felt a bit wary about that point - "politics of information", indeed! Had she overlooked something? Or did Draco just try to conceal his personal interests in Snape? What was it what he had wanted to talk about with Snape so urgently? And since when in the name of hell had she started to think in the lines of Slytherin's paranoia-programme?! But of course Hermione knew she was playing at high stakes at the moment. She started when she felt a warm hand on her arm.

"Hermione? Are you alright? You look exhausted, didn't you sleep at all last night?"

Hermione looked into Ginny's concerned eyes. The night... the dream! Gods, she had nearly forgotten about that!

"It's ok Ginny, I'm only tired. I'll go to bed now, sorry. See you tomorrow!"

Despite the protests of her friends she walked up to her room, pondering the freaky dream again.

Some floors downstairs the Gryffindor common room Severus laid in his bed and tried to make some sense out of the things he had watched and heard today. At first it had frightened him to see these people who obviously knew him, but he couldn't remember them at all; not to speak of himself. Only the girl seemed vaguely familiar.

Severus thought about the things Albus had told him in a broken but understandable Suomi. It seemed too fantastic to be real. But on the other hand... He really couldn't remember anything. There was only darkness, a heavy, blinding and deafening black blanket wrapped around his mind. But despite that, his injuries (and he had no idea how he had achieved THEM either) fitted into the tale. He had been really shocked when he had found his left arm...well, in the state it was in currently.

Severus yawned and watched the clouds drifting in front of the moon. This had been almost too much information for one day. He felt lost and he missed something, although he couldn't put a name to it - "_well, to what exactly could he put possibly a name to?"_ he snorted to himself.

At least there were people who tried to help him, and he could trust them, he felt. Even this blonde boy who had stormed into the room; Severus wasn't sure why but he trusted him despite the suspicious glances the girl had cast at the boy. Severus watched an owl hunting for something in the grass until the bird had swept out of sight again.

Yes, the names...and the language, English Albus had called it. It sounded strange and uneasy but he had the impression it tucked on some parts of his lost memories. But the names... Albus, Poppy, Draco, Mi-ner-va, Her-mi-o-ne...Gods, he would never been able to pronounce these latter two! And Albus seemed to be the only one who knew at least a bit Suomi to explain to him what was going on. Great.

Severus rolled on his stomach, carefully avoiding to lean on his going-to-be left arm, as far as he had understood. He wondered if he - his former self had been insomniac as well, or if it was a result of the unnerving information he had received today. He relaxed a bit better in the new position but there was still something - missing. A soft pressure, something soft and warm, a calming smell on his side; a sound, like quiet murmur; and a soft voice, humming a tune...

Severus connected all this intuitively with Her... with the girl but he wasn't sure. But when he recalled this morning she _had_ been the only one with him at first, and somehow Severus knew that she was the one he was missing right now.

Well, maybe she would visit him tomorrow. He could try and talk to her then. Severus smiled softly in his half-asleep state; hopefully she didn't mind a kind of language-exchange. And hopefully she would allow him to address her with a nickname...


	11. 11

Chapter 11

Severus awoke with a start in the next morning. He had dreamed something, but it had vanished as quickly as he felt his blankets being swept away. He groaned at the sudden coldness, and looked up reluctantly. The nurse - Poppy, at least he remembered _that_ - was twittering around him, checking various things above his head and examining his bandaged arm while she chatted all the time in that foreign language. He was still too tired to listen to something he didn't understand, so he closed his eyes again. This seemed to annoy the nurse. He heard her saying something else, and after a few moments he recognised the word as a name - his supposed-to-be name. He opened his eyes again only to be blinded by a small light held very close to him. The nurse chuckled at his grimace and continued talking about something. Severus tried to hear some structure out of the constant stream of sounds. After several minutes he got the general idea that this "juu" had to be a kind of address, she used it every time she turned towards him. He tried to recognise some words; sounds; _anything_ that was familiar, but he couldn't make out a single resemblance. Severus was very frustrated when the nurse finished her examination and opened the door for his first visitor. Herm... the girl, as he had hoped secretly! He sat up quickly when she hesitantly stepped closer.

"Good morning, Professor Snape."

Well, that seemed to be a greeting. At least he had understood his name again, he thought grimly. He decided to break the ice a bit by handling the situation with humour.

"Huomenta. Mitä kuuluu?"

"Er..."

Severus grinned a bit. He tried the form of address he had heard earlier, and imitated the sound.

"Um... juu?"

He succeeded with this in so far as the girl smiled and said her name again. Severus tried to pronounce the name, but even to him it sounded wrong. The girl smiled wider and repeated the word slowly, making clear distinctions between the syllables. They practised a bit, but it didn't go as smoothly as Severus wished it would. At least she didn't appear to be embarrassed anymore; so that plan had worked. After some minutes of trying Severus sighed frustrated and raised an eyebrow in, as he hoped, a questioning gesture.

"Mia?"

She looked surprised, but then laughed and nodded lively, and Severus was relieved. Again she asked him something he didn't understand, and he just shrugged. Mia smiled again and settled down on the edge of the bed next to him. She faced him and seemed to think about something, then straightened up and placed her hand on her chest. "Ai," she said. Then she placed her hand lightly on his chest and said, "Juu." Severus' mind clicked, and he understood. Smiling he hurried to follow her example.

"Ah! Ai - Juu. Minä - Sinä."

He made the same gestures Mia had used, but touching her arm instead of her chest. Somehow it seemed more appropriate, he smiled to himself. Mia's eyes glittered with excitement and joy. She held up six fingers and started to count off some other words.

"Ai - Juu - Hii - Shii- Wii - Juu - Thei."

Severus furrowed his brows. It was obvious that she was naming the other grammatical persons, but for the third she had used two different words. What was the difference? He repeated her words but stopped at the third one and looked questioningly at her again. She got it instantly and thought for a moment.

"Albus?"

Severus nodded, he knew whom she meant.

"Albus - Hii. Poppy - Shii." Mia gestured towards the nurse.

Severus laughed softly, he really could have thought about that himself. He nodded as a sign he had understood, and Mia seemed very pleased with herself. Severus repeated the words in English, then took his term with the same method.

"Minä - Sinä - Hän - Me - Te - He."

He had stopped for a short moment before he said the last one; after all, he _was_ missing a sixth finger at the moment... Not to speak of the other four. He tried not to think about it, but something must have showed itself on his face, because Mia put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him gently in a hug. She murmured something in his ear he didn't understand, but from the tone of her voice it was something reassuring. He doubted that he could have paid much attention even if he understood what she said... Her warm breath on his shoulder, the soft skin of her cheek on his neck, and the warmth of her body so close to his was enough to occupy his mind at the moment. Far too soon she drew back again, looking at him in a concerned way that renewed his urge to pull her closer again. He resisted with effort and tried a half-hearted smile, just to make her smile again. Luckily it worked, and Mia tried her luck with the new Finnish words.

They continued to go through some simple vocabulary, Mia saying the English words, Severus repeating them and giving the Finnish words, which were repeated by Mia.

They enjoyed the situation, both curious about the other - and extremely different - language, and so they didn't notice how Dumbledore and Poppy watched them secretly. The two smiled at each other, before they retreated to Poppy's office without interrupting them.

Three hours later Severus understood some basic rules, and was able to understand and say short sentences in English. It wasn't as hard as he had feared at first when he had heard the foreign sounds, especially with Mia as instructor. Yes, Mia had definitively a harder time with the Finnish words and sounds. Severus didn't mind the challenge of learning a new language, but his body did mind the effort. Suddenly the room was swirling before his eyes, and he had the feeling to fall. Mia jumped off the bed and held him carefully, laying him back slowly. She looked very worried as she spoke to him slowly.

"I am sorry. You are still exhausted and I keep you from sleeping. You better rest now, I will visit you tomorrow again."

Severus understood most of that, but he didn't want her to leave. He gently took her hand with his right and opened his eyes again. He searched for the new and unfamiliar words.

"No, not... don't go. I am only..." He shrugged. "I am only tired. But you are... great help; and don't be sorry."

He hoped that he didn't sound as foolish as he was feeling at the moment. He had to learn more; he hated to be struggling for words to make himself clear. But Mia didn't seem to mind this at all, she only smiled and sat back on his bed again, still holding his hand.

"Ok, I'll stay. But you must sleep now, ok?"

Severus nodded faintly. It wasn't as if he had a choice, he was already drifting into sleep. The short hours of being awake had been exhausting, and he felt that now with full impact. On the periphery of his mind he felt how Mia stroked the back of his hand, and then there was only soft darkness.

Severus didn't notice how Hermione bent down and kissed his cheek before she left the hospital wing.

The whole school was on the Quidditch pitch in the afternoon of the same day, it was Gryffindor against Slytherin. The spirits were high, for it was a most promising match, and most of the students were indeed relieved that their Potions Master was recovering steadily. Especially the Slytherin team-players were riding on a wave of joy and played like heaven on earth, giving their contrahents a hard time. The players were hardly more than crimson and emerald dots against the light blue sky, blurring in their fast movements. Harry and Draco were fighting roughly and bitterly for the Snitch, diving, dodging, and faking movements to distract the other and ending the game. Draco sent Harry hurtling towards the ground with a well-placed bump in his back, but he was repaid instantly when Harry performed a looping and jerked Draco's broom aside with a swift kick. They both avoided a crash into the stands by mere inches, and while they turned and headed back they saw it at the same time.

Right in front of them flittered the Snitch in the sunlight; they reached for it simultaneously when an ear-splitting bang racked through the air, followed by sharp, eerily screeches. Harry and Draco looked at each other and raised in top speed side on side, Snitch and the match forgotten.

"An attack?" Harry shouted against the wind and looked wildly around him, trying to see something. Draco turned around and let out a scream.

"Down! Quickly, down!"

Harry dived instinctively and saw Draco taking off to the right side. He came closer to the stands and became aware of the shouts of confusion and fear. The students left the stands already, directed by the teachers, who looked up in the sky frequently. The other players had reached the way to the changing rooms already and went, still flying, inside. Harry slowed down and turned around when another bang thundered over the pitch. Harry watched a human figure breaking through the edge of the Forbidden Forest and running towards the castle, but before he could recognise the person he heard Draco shouting a spell behind him. Harry swept around and found Draco casting spell after spell at - creatures he had never seen before.

They looked like large eagles, nearly human-sized eagles, but on a closer look Harry saw that they had human heads, women's heads with brown-greyish hair, and - Harry sickened by the combination - bare breasts. The rest of their bodies were indeed eagle-style. Four of those creatures circled around Draco, trying to grab him with their murderous looking talons, and six of them were still following the running person, who now was close enough that Harry could see it was a man. He zig-zagged his way up to the castle, dropping down suddenly and casting the banging spell again before rolling and standing up again to continue running. The blast gained him a short head-start every time, so Harry tried it himself in Draco's general direction. Indeed the horrifying creatures took off for a moment, so Draco could dive and race towards Harry.

"Harpyies! They're harpyies, inside!"

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He fired a last bang against the shrieking and fluttering beasts and followed Draco inside the changing room. From there they made their way easily back into the castle. They were already greeted by the rest of their teams, but their attention was instantly drawn to the headmaster, who stood on top of the stairs in the entrance hall. He raised his arms, calling for silence.

"I'm relieved to tell you that nobody has been hurt by the harpyies. I will of course investigate the reason for their appearance, but until I have no proved explanation for this question I'd like to advice you not to worry. And the Quidditch match will be repeated, of course."

Dumbledore finished his little speech with his well-known twinkle. The students went back slowly to their common rooms, chattering and arguing about what had happened. Harry turned to follow Ron, but then he caught Dubledore's eyes. The headmaster gestured him to follow. Harry made his way towards him with an icy feeling in his stomach. Had those harpyies been sent by Voldemort? But then - who had been the man running from them? Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder and lead him directly to the hospital wing. Harry's heart leapt; who was it this time? Who had been hurt in an attack that was directed at him, Harry? He swallowed hard when they entered the infirmary - and let out a small cry of surprise:

Sitting on a bed, visibly exhausted but otherwise unharmed, was Remus Lupin.


	12. 12

Chapter 12

Harry swallowed hard when they entered the infirmary - and then let out a small cry of surprise: Sitting on a bed, visibly exhausted, but otherwise unharmed, was Remus Lupin.

Harry run towards him, and the former teacher smiled at the sight of him.

"Remus! Are you ok? They didn't hurt you, did they? Why were they after you? Are you sure you're alright?"

Remus laughed and pulled Harry in an embrace.

"Yes, don't worry, I'm fine. Although they really gave me a run for my money... And you? Were you able to get back inside in time?"

Harry nodded and sat down next to Remus with a broad smile. Dumbledore had taken a seat at the end of the bed and watched them both with amusement. But it was time for him to get more information.

"Remus, would you please tell us what has happened that you had to leave your cover? I hope you didn't put yourself in more danger than you are already in?"

Remus became serious.

"No, Albus, that wasn't it. I stayed under cover the whole time, as you told me, and tried to get information from the other dark creatures in the area."

He ignored Harry's shocked stare when he mentioned the "other" dark creatures; the boy had to get used to the fact that he, Remus, was one as well, even if he tried to supress it as far as he could.

"I'd got the news that a lot of the kind had disappeared in the last few weeks; not only animalic dark creatures, but harpyies, werewolves, and vampires as well. I tried to follow their tracks where they had vanished, in my wolf-form of course, but three weeks ago I was captured, too."

Dumbledore nodded. "I've recieved the message that you were missing, and we did everything to find you; but without success."

Remus nodded grimly. "That doesn't surprise me. I was caught by Death Eaters, Rosier and his lot, to be precise. But luckily they didn't recognised me in my other form, they thought they had just caught another werewolf - of the non-human kind, you know. They put me into a large cage with four other wolves, and in the following days I could find out a bit about their plans. They thought we all were "normal" werewolves, so they didn't mind speaking freely in front of us."

Remus' eyes glittered with amusement at that, but Harry could imagine how terrible it must had been for him, being caged with wild creatures which had, despite himself, no scruples to kill. Remus had always fought the werewolf inside him, and now he had been surrounded by exactly those violent creatures which remembered him of the beast he was once in a month himself. And only his werewolf-form had kept him alive; quite ironic... Harry shuddered briefly and kept listening.

"It appears that Voldemort is catching all dark creatures he can get his hands on. Rosier mentioned something according to that I understood that Voldemort's recent plans include to somehow suck the magical power out of the dark creatures, focus them on himself and increase his own magic in this way. I know it sounds weird, but that is what I heard back in that cage."

Harry didn't know what to think about that. It sounded too similar to one of those science-fiction movies his cousin was so fond of, but Dumbledore looked very grave and didn't talk for a long time. Then he looked up, and Harry flinched: he had never seen the headmaster with such a steely gaze.

Dumbledore mustered Remus grimly.

"It seems that Voldemort tries to create a manifestation of Dark Magic; he searches the Essence of Magic."

Hermione had burried herself in research, but for the first time in her life she was following four different tracks at the same time. She had racked her brain for a possible explanation of her recent dream, and had spent more time than she was willing to admit in the Divination Section of the library. She also had dug out a small Finnish grammar book, which included some basic vocabulary, and additionally she had tried to find as much information as possible about the "Essence of Magic" Dumbledore had mentioned to her. One name had appeared again and again in the literature concerning the latter one: Sinikka Lahtinen. It seemed that Snape's mother had made a discovery of some sort in that matter; but what exactly that had been, or where to find it, the books kept silent about.

Hermione threw her quill across the library table. She was extremely frustrated. Everything seemed circulating around everything, and she couldn't find a way to break into the circle. She leaned back into her chair and rubbed her eyes. Lahtinen was famous for her discoveries and developments in the field of Elementary Magic. That meant she had studied the powers of the elements, not only for their importance in potion brewing, but their very individual powers. Hermione glanced down on her last book, which bore a silvery septagon on its cover, each corner ornamented with the sign of one element. "Elemental Elementary Studies" read the title, but apart from the promising headline it had merely been a waste of time. The author had obviously disliked the idea of using the elements isolated from potions, and his introduction to this field he made very clear of that in an airy, ironic voice.

Hermione traced a silvery outline with her index. Ice... Ron had told her that Lahtinen's preference had been that element. She traced another one. Fire; Earth; Air; Water; Ice; Soil... Hermione's hand hovered above the last symbol, and she frowned. What _was_ the seventh element? She had never come across it in potions, or in her own research about various topics as well. She regarded the symbols closer; yes, they were the old alchemical signs for the elements... A thrilling wave washed over her as she felt herself close at unlocking something - well, unknown and important. The alchemical signs were symbols, and symbols were stylized pictures, and also were - runes!

Hermione concentrated on the Fire sign. A triangle, tip on bottom, included a sign similar to the tip of an arrow... Remembering the fact that these were indeed very old runes, the entire symbol could be translated with... Hermione fetched her quill hastily and grabbed a new parchment.

"...as flame (or fire) in corporal manifestation; no, better, in mental and physical manifestation; or..."

The realisation sent a new wave of excitement through her body.

"...or, in _human_ manifestation!"

The triangle was traditionally linked, according to uncountable magical rune-alphabets, to the idea of a living being with body, breath and soul - humans. A piece of her last wicked dream dwelled up in Hermione's memory: Snape's posture... the posture of a praying Germanic warrior... Germanic!

She dashed out of her corner and grabbed some well chosen books from the shelves: "Introduction to Germanic Religion, mythology and Rituals", "The Germanic Rune-Divination Guide", "Dictionary of Germanic Runes". Yes, that would do.

Half an hour later Hermione had cracked down the specific meaning of the triangle in the Fire sign. The corners - not the sides, as she had always thought - held indeed the meanings of 1. body: that excluded ghosts, evil spirits and a few demons. 2. breath: that excluded the whole section of the Undead, as well as water creatures. And 3., soul: This last one excluded, following Germanic believes, children, animals, giants and other magical creatures. Together the three corners founded the pictogram of the human being. The conditions "body, breath and soul" were additionally related to the elements, Body to Earth, Breath to Air, and Soul to... Hermione stared at the last, unknown rune-pictogram. This had to be the link to Soul.

The symbol was formed out of three small circles, each parted in itself by a single-waved line. The three circles sat on the corners of yet another triangle, only the linking lines in between were missing. In the centre of the triangle hovered a diamond-shaped rune which Hermione didn't know. She looked it up in the dictionary, and found herself dumbstruck with glee: The meaning of the little diamond was 'Magic'!

She took a closer look at the pictogram, now that she was sure it meant "Element of Magic". She noticed that the two circles at the bottom weren't entirely closed; each had a tiny break in its outline, exactly facing each other. Hermione held a ruler to the book-cover. Yes, the breaks were opposite, and she would be able to connect them with a thin drawn line. She looked at the third circle on the tip: This one was closed. She frowned in irritation, what was this supposed to mean?! Or was she over-interpreting things?

She decided to investigate the signs on the background of the wavy, parting line. In a way it remembered her of the Chinese Yin/Yang symbol... In a flash Hermione grabbed the dictionary. Indeed, the according rune symbolized "Human Mind". She took a closer look on each circle. She noticed that the left one was nearly blackened with crossed, thin lines; the one on top was darkened with single thin lines, but lighter than the left one. The last one, on the right, was unmarked and white. Black, less black and white... The image of her dream-Snape dwelled back upon her, looking like the negative of a Muggle photography, her own mirror-image in his eyes...

Hermione jumped when she understood. She trembled violently, dreaded screaming out loud or running to Dumbledore at top speed, but she forced herself to take a new, large scroll of parchment and a new quill, and carefully she started to write.


	13. 13

Chapter 13

Severus hadn't slept well that night. First – well, first it had not been too bad, he had dreamed of Mia, her laughter, the smile in her eyes... But then her image had benn substituted by other faces he did not know, but they weren't smiling anymore. And they weren't looking at him, either; they had just stared in the air, lifeless eyes in lifeless faces, and he shuddered when he remembered the coldness he had felt in his dream. Not only coldness, but desinterest and indifference. It had frigthened him, and it did even now. How could he have felt like that while looking in those faces? Other images and moving pictures as well had kept flashing through his mind while dreaming, scenes he didn't understood nor recognised but which frightened him. He had the feeling that those images had the power to destroy him. He had awoken covered in sweat and out of breath, but utterly cold. The coldness had burned him from within, and even now, when he only remembered the feeling, a small wave of that coldness was dwelling up and stinging into his bones. The morning had found him wrapped up in the blankets but highly awake and racking his brain about the frightening dreams. He dealry wanted to speak woth Mia, to hear her voice again, to feel her presence and her warmth. And he needed to find out what person he had been; why he was haunted by such horrible pictures and, first of all, what they meant. Severus hesitated; what if mia knew about the things that caused the nightmares? Or even worse, if she didn't know? If he talked with her about it, he maybe would scare her away? But he needed her, and he didn't want to lose her. He even missed her now, and she had barely left him ten hours ago to let him get some sleep. Perhaps he should ask Albus first. The man was much older and it appeared to Severus that he cared much for him. Severus asked himself if it was possible that Albus was his father, and he couldn't remember him? But no, Albus had told him that he had been a teacher at his school, the same school in wich infirmary he was now. But the older man cared more about him than the normal headmaster-teacher relationship provided, Severus felt that. Maybe Albus did indeed know about the reasons of his nightmares... Anyway, it seemed to be safr to ask Albus first, and then speak with Mia. Even he was afraid himself, Severus wanted Mia to know as much as possible, for he knew so few about himself. Once he had made this decision, he felt a bit of warmth coming back to his numb body. Exhausted he closed his eyes, and a few minutes later he drifted finaly into sleep again.

_Dear father_

_Surely you have already heard the news: The betrayer has received his punishment. In the current circumstances, I have decided to let him live to suffer without memory of himself. In his condition he is no challenge for me, and I refuse to kill him without him knowing why, or even knowing me. I am sure you will understand my decision. I will take real revenge in that very moment when he knows again what he did to our Lord. Until that happens, I will let him live to frighten the friends of that old fraud Dumbledore, to show them what happens to fiends and betrayers of the Dark Lord. _

_Of course I will keep you informed of the ongoing affairs in this unworthy school and its inhabitants._

_Your son Draco_

Hermione sat nervously and excited in Dumbledore office, while the headmaster read her paper again – the fourth time, she noticed. His expression was difficult to read: He tried to remain neutral, but from time to time there were flashes of different emotions in his face. Worry, excitement, thoughtfulness, and worry again – Hermione wasn't sure, if she wanted to know what the old wizard was thinking of her; or her paper. At last Dumbledore put the parchment down and watched her carefully.

"Hermione – do you know what this is?"

She swallowed hard. "Sir?"

"I'll tell you: This is the most brilliant, most likely to be true, and most brisant and dangerous thesis in this actual reality."

Hermione hesitated; the part about the "actual reality" confused her. She waited anxiously for Dumbledore to continue.

"Hermione, I'm pretty sure you have hit the core of that most challenging mind game I told you about; and, frankly, I think that you have even found the solution. And this is why your thesis is dangerous. If the wrong people get notice of this, our war against Voldemort may be decided against us in this very moment. I have to discuss your paper with some excellent, trustworthy friends of mine, all experts in one or another field of magic... If you agree, of course."

Hermione nodded. She was still too anxious to say anything further.

"What a pity that Severus is still lost in his amnesia; I'm sure he would have to say something about this. Especially about the manifesting part of the essence, as you presume it... And I can imagine that he would know how to identify the persons needed to do this..."

Hermione startled. "Sir! Do you really think of _doing_ this... incorporation?! You said yourself that it is dangerous! If even the thesis is that dangerous and likely to be misused, why do you think of actual _making_ the essence?"

Dumbledore leaned forward to her: "Because I believe that you found the key to defeat Voldemort. See, according to your thesis three individual persons are needed: One who is the representation (or impersonation) of Dark Magic, one for Grey Magic and the last one for White Magic. If you have interpreted the rune pictogram correctly, we need a connection between the three kinds of magic under a special ritual, which is, I'm afraid, forgotten and lost. But imagine for a short moment we were able to recreate this ritual; if we were able to identify the persons needed; and at last, if we were able to create the Essence of Magic... It would be the ultimate power, but, you are right, unluckily for both sides in this war. A creation of this extend and power won't go unnoticed, I completely agree with you in this point. But if we could really get the Essence of Magic, we had a few advantages: It would be the ideal bait to get close to Voldemort, or to bring him to an attack at Hogwarts; it would give our defence a lasting power; finally it would give us the power to destroy Voldemort once and for all. I know exactly the risk that occurs in creating a manifestation of the Essence. But despite that I want you to further investigate this great possibility you have found us. Maybe it will be pointless, and the necessary ritual stays lost, and maybe we will never find the persons who impersonate the three kinds of magic; but despite all these "ifs" I want you to go on. DO you understand?"

Hermione was flattened by Dumbledore's pure presence. His intense gaze stared into her, and then she understood. Even if she would not found a single hint on the solutions of the problems Dumbledore had listed, there was still the possibility that she could set Voldemort's supporters on a wrong track. And she was becoming a bait herself this way...

Hermione made her decision.

"To get further information on this topic, I would like to read some of Sinikka Lahtinen's research papers. Do you know by chance where I can find them?"

Dumbledore regarded her with a challenging look.

"As far as I remember, the highly celebrated Lahtinen passed all her scientific work on to her only son."

A few hours later Hermione still didn't know if Dumbledore had given her the best hint he could think of, or if she had done a kind of horse trading with him... To get Lahtinen's research papers, she had to ask Severus; to tell her where she could find it, Severus had to remember where he treasured it; to remember _that_, he had to remember the rest. And to make him remember, Hermione had to care for him.

"Great. Now I'm the plaything of a power-hungry Slytherin boy who has some undecipherable interests in the Potions Master, an old, even more power-hungry headmaster... And my own burning thirst of knowledge. Just _great_." Hermione thought.

Well... It wasn't as if she didn't had her own interest in Snape's health... She told herself to stop thinking along this line. Yes, she liked him, she had already liked him when he still was the evil, frightening Potions Bastard (as Ron had called him from time to time). But now she wasn't sure if she liked him more now because of what had happened to him – or because of the person he was at the moment. That was a dangerous thing, she knew. And for sure she needed help. Harry would not be a problem, he would help her and keep everything secret; he was used to this kind of things. Ginny was the same, Hermione could rely on her. But what to do with Ron? It would be impossible to exclude him, not that Hermione wanted to do that, but would he keep his mouth? She wasn't sure if he would not blabber some things out if someone clever decided to question him discretely. But she didn't want to decide that on her own. Harry and Ginny should give her their advice.

But for now she decided to keep all those thoughts out of her mind; she wanted to see Severus. Now she became aware of it, she almost _missed_ him.

"Wow. Somehow I have the impression that this whole story is going farther than I would normally like it."

With this thought she entered the hospital wing.


	14. 14

Chapter 14

Severus had to stay in bed, the nurse had told him that. Well, he was doing what he had been told, for so far. He stayed in bed in a half-sitting position, supported by thick, comfortable cushions, and was watching the Hogwarts Grounds bathed in sunlight from out of his infirmary room. He had let Poppy bustle around him earlier this morning, when she had checked on his arm and some other functions he didn't know about. Mercyfully she had been speaking slowly to him, and thanks to Mia he had at last grasped some of the things the nurse had twittered about. She seemed to be happy about his state of recovery, and had told him perhaps about six times that his arm made a lot of progress and no worries at all. He had understood her the second time she told him that, and had been quite annoyed about the repetitions. But, he supposed, Poppy only wanted to help him with his language problem, too, and didn't notice when she exaggerated.

This train of thought brought his mind back to Mia. He wondered when she would visit him again; and if he would be able to remember all the things she had told him about the English language, and the words... He was quite worried that his short-term memory could have been damaged, too. He would ask Mia to organise him something to write.

Severus continued gazing out of the window, absent-mindedly picking at the bandages that covered his arm. He heard the nurse rummaging in her office next door, some tinkling noises like glass bottles, a murmured spell. Someone in the students area of the hospital wing coughed, and bed sheets rustled. The typical smell of heated copper reached him, making him wonder what exactly the nurse was doing... Brewing maybe, he decided, as a certain trace of sulphur flowed through the air. Looking back outside of the window and seeing the same, unchanged scenery without a hint of activity (this was supposed to be a _school_, after all!), and Severus lost his patience. He was bored to the bone, and peace and quiet were the last things he wanted right now. Unfortunately his possibilities of action were quite limited, and somehow he doubted that Poppy would let him go and explore the grounds or the school. He decided to start with something easier: his wand. He had seen Albus carry one as well as Poppy and Mia, and this blonde, somehow familiar boy had burst into his room with a wand in his hand as well. And Severus knew, though not why, that he had possessed an own wand – but where was it now?

He rummaged through the drawers of his bedside table, but found nothing apart from some chocolate frogs Albus had given to him, and a small bottle of pain-stilling potion. He looked for some of his other clothes. He vaguely remembered a large black cloak; in one of its pockets must be his wand, he was strangely sure of putting it there some time ago. He got up (slowly, avoiding noise as much as possible) and started to look through the little furniture, but he didn't find any shred of black cloth. Obviously it had been thrown away... Wait a minute. Severus stopped in his tracks and tried to concentrate. Why was he so sure that it had been _thrown_ away? On second thought, he found himself convinced of his cloak being torn somehow... slashed... a dark, thin red light shooting towards him like a whip... Severus flinched and shook his head. This was frustrating. He continued his search and managed to turn over the little room twice before he heard the door open again.

Hermione entered the infirmary, waved at Madame Pomfrey, who was busy with preparing new potions in her office, and walked into Snape's room. She was surprised to find him, despite Madame Pomfrey's strict orders, standing in the middle of the room, obviously looking for something. In the moment when Hermione had stepped in, Snape whirled around and looked at her. At the end of the fast and gracious movement he swayed strongly, and had to steady himself on the bedframe. Hermione nearly laughed at the sight of his barely concealed guilty look, and sheepish half-grin when he recognised her. She noticed, still surprised though it was not the first time, how tall Snape was. Even barefoot he was nearly two heads taller than her. And in the white shirt and trousers, which made the standard hospital outfit, he looked surprisingly... Well, _not_ like the flappy great bat she had got used to during the last six years. She also noticed that the short cut hair suited him... It was unnerving somehow and she was unused to see him like this, but nevertheless it made a pleasant difference. Hermione snapped back to the present. Snape had settled himself back on the bed meanwhile, and was looking at her questioningly. She smiled and joined him.

"Good morning, S.. Severus. What are you looking for?"

Gosh, it was still hard to use his first name while addressing him.

"Good morning, Mia. I'm missing my... erm..."

He searched for a word. Hermione was pleasantly surprised how fluid and without hesitation he had answered her. His intonation had been better, too; and even a trace of his typical accent had shown itself. Perhaps, if not his memories, his language abilities were coming back to him slowly. Now he pointed at her wand.

"This. I'm missing my own, although I'm sure I have put it in the pocket of my cloak..."

Hermione was really startled now, and delighted; that was something she hadn't talked about with him. Perhaps she should continue her research on those books about linguistics, maybe she would find something that explained his fast progress...

"Mia?"

"Oh! Er... yes, your wand. Well, we found your wand inside your cloak, as you said right now, but I'm afraid... well... it was broken."

"Broken?"

Hermione noticed his puzzled expression. He didn't seem to understand what she meant by that.

"Yes; broken. In two pieces. Like this..."

She made a gesture like breaking a twig. Snape looked at her in shock, then he sulked. But Hermione could see grief in his dark expression, and understood him completely. The loss of _her _wand would make her go berserk. She took his hand.

"I'm sure you can get a new wand soon. We'll ask Poppy when you are allowed to get out of bed, and then we can go to Diagon Alley and buy a new wand."

Snape still sat there brooding, but nodded lightly when she had finished. He turned towards her and watched her intently, but in an open, curious way, as if he was wondering to ask or tell her something. His expression became uncertain and he broke their eye-contact quickly for a second. When he met her eyes again, he seemed to have decided on something. Even if he still looked a little sad, Hermione was relieved to see a new energetic glint in his eyes. Although, when she thought about it, it nearly seemed to be a mischievous glint...

"Ok, Mia; what would you say when I tell you that there are still some more verb and noun classes in Suomi?"

Draco sat in his corner of the Slytherin common room, well hidden from the greater part of his classmates, his high dark armchair secluded in the shadows. He sipped on his white wine; not that the Hogwarts students were allowed alcohol apart from Christmas dinner. But having a former house elf of his father at the Hogwarts kitchen crew did definitely its advantages. And Draco had always liked Dobby and treated him as a friend; so Dobby still was very keen on helping and pleasing his former young master.

The thought of Dobby was linked to his father, and to Draco's deal with Hermione Granger. He had written this letter to his father to gain her and Severus more of the time they needed so pressingly. Of course this wouldn't last forever. He knew, from his own well secluded sources, that Granger had at least made some progress with Severus' language abilities. They communicated with a mixture of English sentences with a lot of Finnish vocabulary. But Draco knew that Severus was on the right way of regaining his speech. He had spoken with Draco in that way when he had been younger, and Draco smiled softly at the memory of an also younger Severus, playing with him in the garden of Malfoy Manor, cradling him and brushing grass out of his hair. He remembered the odd but so comforting sounds of the foreign words, mixed with English; he remembered how he had begun to understand a lot of the foreign language he later learned was Severus' mother tongue. Draco snorted, perhaps he should give Granger some extra-lessons for her efforts. But of course that would be impossible, it was too much to risk it.

Now, back to his problem... or, the going-to-be problem. When Severus started to speak more English than now, it would not be long until his father gained notice of it. And if this notice would not come from Draco himself, he would be in serious trouble for not having reported to his father. His next step was to think about a way of informing his father without giving Severus away... And Granger, come to think of it. Draco took another sip of his wine. As it appeared at the moment, he would have to risk a middle way. The worst accusation that could be made on him, then, was that of misreading or underestimating the situation. That would have to do.

He emptied his glass, stood up and swooped down to his bedroom with a well-known swirling of his robes that would have send some of the students (mainly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs) into frightened scrambles for the exit. Well, he _had_ taken some lessons from his dad...


	15. 15

Chapter 15

Hermione was quite irritated and annoyed by her best friend's behaviour. Not that Harry was in her way, or constantly by her side, or, like Ron did, asking her again and again why she helped Snape. What irritated her was that he was constantly watching her, as if asking himself what she had on her mind. And Hermione didn't like that at all, for it meant she had almost never a moment to her own. She even didn't dare to think about her discovery of the Essence, because her excitement may have shown on her face, or she might think a bit aloud or mumble to herself, and if anyone caught that... She was relieved every evening when she went to the infirmary and was able to slam the door shut into the world's face. At least with Severus she didn't need to guard her thoughts or behaviour. And to her it was a great annoyance that Harry insisted of bringing her, waiting for her and returning with her from the infirmary. At least he didn't try to press her for information, or scolded her, like another good friend she had.

She had left Severus today after two hours filled with talk and try-outs in their slowly developing pidgin. Severus tried to remember some irregular English verbs and phrases as examples, and Hermione had tried to get a system into the various types of Finnish verbs and nouns. Although Severus still mixed up some vowels within the irregulars, he had become quite understandable. Hermione wished that she could say that from herself in Finnish, too. She desperately wished for some reference books, or at least for a list of the Finnish verbs and the grammatical cases they required...

She stepped out of the hospital wing with the beginning of a thunderous headache. She had not yet made five steps out of the door when she saw Harry stepping out of his waiting-corner. She honestly wondered if he really stayed there the whole two hours which she was with Severus every evening.

She noticed Harry's concealed glance at her, his eyes and expression carefully kept blank. "Well, at least his Occlumency lessons have taught him abilities to guard himself better, and to keep his thoughts out of his face. Would be happy if _I_ could do that..." Hermione sighed and decided to put an end to this hideous hide-and-seek with a straight forward inquiry.

"Ok, Harry, just one thing: Why?"

Harry raised his eyebrows and tried his best innocent, charming smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hmm? Why what?"

"Why do you keep tailing me? You know where I am, how long I'll stay there, with whom and for which purpose. SO just why do you watch me? And don't come me with Malfoy or some other stupid excuse like that."

Harry's expression was back to a controlled and calm blankness that didn't give anything away. He drew closer to Hermione, as if preventing that someone next to them would hear him.

"Actually, I _do_ wonder about Malfoy. Because he is _not_ bullying or threatening you."

Hermione grew cold. Had their agreement been blown up? Again she wished she could hide her thoughts away from her face, because obviously some of her shock had shown itself on her face, and Harry could easily read it.

"You see, I just can't imagine that someone like Draco Malfoy lets the fate of someone so close and dear to him in the hands of a person he loathes, especially in yours; don't get me wrong. I'm simply wondering why he keeps quiet about the whole thing. Even if he separated from Snape because of him being a spy against Voldemort, why isn't he boasting about "how the Dark Lord treats unfaithful servants"? Why isn't he trying to get in your way in order to get your current position for himself, for the one or other purpose? And I'm watching and following you because I have this little idea that you would know some answers to the riddles in Malfoy's behaviour..."

Hermione could only stare at Harry. She had the impression that she had missed some point of his explanations. At the same time, her thoughts humbled along his train of thought, or tried to do so, and she desperately tried to think through the last three weeks, if all this had really been so obvious... But Harry distracted her again.

"That is not all. I'm also worried that Malfoy – senior this time – might plan something to harm or kill Snape while there is still the possibility. He is not under the full protection of the Order as long as he is in the hospital, you know that. And I'm quite certain that Malfoy senior would not give a single thought about it if he would also get you killed together with Snape, just because you are there at the moment. On the contrary. So, maybe you could put your pieces together again and explain me what is going on here."

Harry looked so serious and calm than Hermione had ever seen him before. He had spoken in an even, emotionless voice that was close to creeping her out. His green eyes were fixed on her now, and held her gaze in a nearly steely way. She knew that there was no way of putting him off.

"Ok. I can't tell you everything in detail, but the general reasons and activities I think I can tell you."

Harry nodded without smiling, looking at her expectantly. Hermione briefly wondered how much exactly he had learned, not only from Snape's Occlumency, but from his every encounter with Voldemort. It must have been a lot, and something she had not been aware until now; for she felt exactly that he had not need to ask her. He could have forced her to tell him everything. He had only asked because he was still himself – without corruption from the Dark Arts or the horrible experiences he had had. Before she started, however, she dragged him into Myrtle's bathroom and made the pale girl-ghost standing guard for eavesdroppers. They settled down on the cold stone floor.

"Alright. First, about Malfoy: We made a deal. I don't know why he was willing to do so, but he offered it to me first hand. The deal is that I try all I can to help Snape recover, and in return he is watching our back for his father, who, as you thought, wants to kill Snape. I have no idea how Draco does it, and actually I don't want to know what exactly he tells his father."

Harry nodded slowly, thinking to himself. But Hermione had an own question, it had just occurred to her what it was she thought odd in Harry's explanations...

"You said that Snape is very close and dear to Draco; why? I know Snape has favoured him above all in our classes and outside, but I never thought it more than a "political" draw on Snape's side; nor had I the impression that their likings were mutual."

Harry smiled slyly.

"Yes, you're right with the political draw, but you are mistaken for the direction: It is aimed, of course, at Lucius Malfoy, for not giving him any weapon against Snape in his position at Hogwarts. Furthermore, it is aimed at us, that is, the rest of the school. Snape is known for favouring his own house; Malfoy appears to dig on it, and, especially, to play out Snaoe to his own likings, and taking advantage of him. In that way, they both appear in a quite stereotypical light, once you notice it: Snape as unfair teacher, with a weak "political" spot for Malfoy, quite bound to his likings; and Draco as pupil who can wrap his teacher around his finger, without fearing any consequences. You see? They appear both bound to political reasons, without any emotions involved. This is the ideal role-play they have developed to cover their real affections."

"And their real affections are...? And why the hell do you know all this?!"

Harry laughed.

"One step after another! Ok, I know that Snape and Draco are quite like father and son. And Snape is, thank god, not a father like Malfoy senior. And I know all this from my Occlumency lessons... You see, I have to prevent Snape from rummaging in my memories for things I would most likely _not_ remember, and the best way to fight him I found was to counteract him in the same way. I let him in a bit, then push him with all might back the way he came, for that way can be used in both directions. And because he removes all his bad memories and all the top-secret knowledge from the Order before we practice, I come to see what is left of his memories – his good ones. And most of those memories feature Draco, while Snape is playing with him when he was younger, or discussing almost everything in the world in recent times, and so on. And you know what? In all the memories Draco calls Snape "dad". I'm quite certain that Draco has a very special interest in Snape's well-being."

They fell silent for some time. Hermione was stunned, and she had to concentrate hard to sort through the information Harry had given he, comparing them with her own knowledge and musings.

Harry, however, recalled thoughtfully the peculiar lesson when he had succeeded in pushing Snape back into his own memories, and for quite a long time, too. He had seen scenes from Draco's childhood in the large backyard of Malfoy Manor, where he and Snape had played, child games at first, later mostly Quidditch. He had seen how Snape told the five years old Draco how to mount his small kids-broom; he had seen the neck-breaking dive Snape had flown when Draco, out of stubbornness, had flown into a storm and was blown of his broom; Snape had caught him barely ten feet above the ground, and had crashed into some holly-bushes afterwards. Harry grinned; in that lesson Snape had rubbed the back of his neck without awareness for the rest of the time.

Harry had also seen Draco's first steps as a baby, had witnessed through Snape's eyes his first bit of magic (a Freezing charm, when a part of his potions-kit exploded and his robe caught fire), and some evening conversations they had shared over dinner in more recent times, clearly held at Hogwarts in Snape's rooms during the holidays. And Harry knew the happiest memory Snape confounded on when casting a Patronus: A four years old Draco running at top speed and with bright eyes towards Snape, hugging him tightly around the neck and saying "Thank you, dad!" into his ear.

Harry had no idea what that scene was about, and Snape was no one to be asked about it. Furthermore, they had both agreed at the beginning of Harry's sixth year, when he had asked Snape about continuing the lessons, that everything they would get to know about each other would remain a matter between them and would not leave Snape's office. From that time on, Harry was far from liking Snap, but he had to admit that they kept a quite civilised tongue with each other, and the lessons became less insulting.

Somehow, with regard to Snape's work for the Order, Harry had gained a kind of grudging trust to Snape. He wouldn't talk through his private life with him, to be sure, but he knew that he could go to Snape for advice and support in matters concerning Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Something stupid like forgetting to consult Snape like at the end of his fifth year would never happen again to him.

Harry came gradually out of his thoughts when he noticed Hermione grinning at him.

"Well? What about your other burning questions, Harry?"


	16. 16

Chapter 16

The next morning found Harry, despite the formidable weather (and therefore best Quidditch practice conditions), deeply burried in the library. Of course this was the result of his long talk with Hermione yesterday. She had told him about her discovery, and that it might be connected to what Remus had reported, to Voldemort's plans of creating the Essence of Magic out of the magic of dark creatures.

It had something to do with old runes, alchemical symbols and manifestations of elements; that was what Harry had drawn out as a kind of fazit. He didn't know all of the implications that occurred here, but he was sure that Hermione and Dumbledore knew, and that was good enough for him. Only the part about the elemental manifestaion still confused him a bit. Harry had always thought that a fire, for example, _was_ the element fire, but Hermione had explained that there was a kind of prototype believed to exist, The Fire (or the Essence of Fire, if you liked analogies), and that there might be prototypes for all the elements. The question was how to get a manifestation of that kind. And it was believed that the Essence of Magic was a mere myth, too, because of the existence of wiches/wizards and muggles alike. All the other elements "worked" for both groups, magic only for one group. So, in regard to an universial principle, the Essence of Magic should not exist. But Hermione's discovery had opened o path to create it in spite of this principle...

Hermione had explained a great deal more, so much that Harry was beginning to wonder if there were such things as borders of reality; if there could really be a way of creating something that shouldn't be able to exist under the force of the physical laws. When Hermione had told him how she had gotten the idea that had let to her discovery, through the runic element-symbols, it had sounded as if old, powerful ways of magic, long forgotten by the world, were creeping back into the present.

It remembered Harry of the time when he had read all the old legends of King Arthur, with Merlin's magic and swords made of something purer and more poweful than steel. Everytime he had read them, he had had the feeling of something old, coded, hidden, but nevertheless true power or wisdom, the feeling of _knowledge_ flowing beneath the surface of those stories like an ancient veine, shining through the words and phrases and waiting to be touched, to be brought back into life again by someone who knew... Secrets to be unlocked by a long lost key; and now it seemed as if Hermione had found an entrance into the ancient world behind the runes. She had uncovered a tiny part of this old knowledge, and now it waited to be restored with its old power and truth...

"Give me a fulcrum and a lever long enough..." Harry thought quite distracted.

He wondered what exactly would happen if such an old, barely known magic would be brought (back?) into existence, into reality. Were the old legends about the Old Ages true? The ages even Tolkien had used as a basis of his fiction? The first Age, which had seen the times of the Tartares, the earth- and fire-born creatures, creatures older than human being, maybe older than time itself? The second Age, the age of gods, halfgods and demons, of elves and dwarfs, the supposed age of King Arthur? The third Age, in which they lived in now, according to this ancient calendar, the age of humans, magic folk and muggles alike? What would happen if there were truly the possibility of creating the Essence of Magic, bending or breaking the natural laws in the process of doing so? What would happen if it were done? Would the world turn forwards, into a new Age? Would there be a change at all? All of a sudden, or slowly, hardly recogniseable for the people living right now? Would there be a crack in reality, a kind of stepstone into another universe or reality? And, not to be forgotten: _Should_ such an essence be created at all?

Harry shook himself out of the stupor he had fell into while thinking. He had goose-bumps all over him, they had come when he had thought about the ancient Ages and the powers that were tangible behind the words of the old texts. He drew one of the books on the table closer to him. Maybe he had misjudged his abilities; instead of studying for Auror training, he should become a mythicist and write down his musings about the world in general, the many ifs and whens... He snorted to himself. If he kept rambling aboutold myths and long-gone aeras, he would miss his own time living and his tasks. And Hermione had been quite clear about his tasks at the moment.

"Search and collect everything you can find about Sinikka Lahtinen, her biography, her work, especially her work about elemental magic, and if possible, try and get her original texts, and _her_ sources as well. Perhaps we have to reconstruct her thoughts out of her works, so every text written by herself is valuable."

Harry repeated this softly to himself, and grinning started on his first attempt of her biography. Maybe he _really_ should become a mythicist: he already had had visions, and now he started speaking to himself... He laughed at that, and, becoming aware of laughing out loud without obvious reason to passers-by, he laughed even harder.

Severus jerked out of his dream with a gasp, mingled with a sobbed cry. He had had the worst nightmare he could think of ever having dreamed. It had been as if one of the many lifeless faces he rgularly saw in his dreams had stepped out of the mass and had shown him it's story.

It was a young man, in his mid-twenties perhaps, with red-brown hair, brown eyes and a handsome face. He had looked at Severus without expression, then had stepped aside with a gesture ti his side like a prolouger in theatre when the curtain is going to rise. And like a film Severus had seen how the young man ran through a field of raps in the middle of the night, ran with all his strength to save his life, terror in his eyes.

A black, hooded figure appeared suddenly right next to him and pointed it's wand at him. The young man fell and rolled over several times until he layed motionlessly. The hooded figure strode over to where he had slumbed, grabbed his arm and dragged him carelesly out of the field. At it's rim were several other figures, all clad the same, obviously waiting for them. The paralyzed but full conscious man (Severus could tell that from the look of his eyes) was dropped in the middle of the small circle. Another figure stepped forwards, with a glass jar and a leaved birch twig in its hands. It opened the jar, swirled the twig around in the faint blue liquid the jar contained, and carefuly sprinkled the young man with it. Nothing happened. The figure repeated its actions several times, until the young man was completely covered with the liquid. Still, nothing happened. The figure with the glass jar retreated, giving a sign to two other figures, which draw their wands and released the man from his paralyse. He clampered back to his feet, trembling from head to toe, looking restlessly from one to the other, searching for a gap in the circle, for the possibility to escape from their line. There was none. The two figues still pointed theirs wands at him, and then, suddenly, blasted him off his feet again with a force that knocked twelve feet away. The figures amused themselves with this kind of sport a little while, leting him come back to his feet and blasting him down again. At last the figure with the glass jar still in hand let go of the dripping birch twig and produced its own wand. It blasted the young man right into a small, hardly knee-deep pond next to the raps field. He fell backwards into it, the water of the pond splashed over him and rained down like a crystaline, glittering veil of diamonts. And the horror began.

The dream, mute until now, was giving way to hardly bearable screams of fear and hoarse, pityless laughter. When the the screams turned from fear into hoarse screams of pain and dying, Severus wished he should never hear again. But the dream went on, as mercilessly to him as it was to the young man. The young man's skin started to melt away where it was covered with water, slowly at first like thick wax, then faster and faster. He creid in agony, tried to wipe the water off from his face and body, but it was to no use. His fingers dropped skin and flesh away like candles, blood mignled with with the sickening runny mass. He came to his feet a last time, trying to get out of the pond. His face was already running down his skull, his features still recognisable in the mass like an obscene caricature, his dislocated eyes large with terror. He staggered a last step, then the mass of his inner organs slipped out and fell onto his feet, for there were no more muscles or flesh to hold them in place. He fell forwards into it, a gurgling noise came from his bare and also already melting lungs. Then, with the noise of a punctured ballon, his lungs deflated and he layed still. Within another half a minute, the whole body had melted away into a large, brownish mass which slapped in the pond.

The black figures still laughed and pointed and seemed to congratulate each oter. The figure with the glass jar bent, as if curious, over the pond. A long strand of silver blonde hair fell out from under its hood in its masked face. While the scenery began to swirl and became unfocused, Severus could hear voices, his own and a rich, soothing one which he connected directly with the strand of silver blonde hair. But he could not understand what they said, they were talking in English. But his own voice sounded angry, and at a more secluded level horrified and repulsed; the other one sounded jokingly and tried to calm. And, at the end, it said something reassuringly, as if it made a compliment.

This had been the point when Severus had drifted from dream to horrorstruck awakening. He was trembling now, soaked in sweat and close to vomiting. He burried his head in his hand and forced himself to breathe. He ragged some breath into him, more gasping than everything else and nearly choking. The effort hurt him as if he were burning inwardly. The pressure of vomiting faded slowly. Instead of that a prickling pressure built up beneath his eyes, and when he was able to suck in a large gulp of breath, he gave way and sobbed painfully.

He didn't notice how Poppy rushed into his room, alarmed by his hoarse whimpers and sobs, and how she rushed out again and into her office. Only seconds later someone sat down next to him on the bed. Severus, however, jerked away, terrified by the thought someone should be close to him after what he had dreamed, and for what he was, as he knew somehow, responsible. Blinded with tears he tried to struggle away, lashing out at the unknown person next to him.

"Kuka on täällä? Älä tule lähemmäksi! Älä koske mihin!"

A gentle, soft voice answered him, a voive he knew and loved since his schooldays.

"Miksi? Mitä olet katsonut?"

But Severus could not answer to that gentle voice. Tears, pain, desperation and self-disgust pressed a lump in his throat, and he remained choking and sobbing. Then, against his struggles, he was pulled into an embrace. His head came to rest on a shoulder, and surprisingly strong arms held him while he cried and scremed his pain away. A hand stroked through his short hair and over his back, comforting him as well as the dark, soft murmur of words he did not understand. After what seemed ages to him he calmed down. Not because the pain inside him had lessened or because he was truly comforted, but out of pure exhaustion. He was still craddled in the firm but gentle embrace, and still he was being stroked. He panted like after a ten miles run.

"Mitä olet katsonut?"

repeated the gentle voice.

Severus swallowed hard and began to tell.


	17. 17

_**I'm sorry, I forgot to give the translation for the previous chapter:**_

_**"Kuka on täällä? Älä tule lähemmäksi! Älä koske minuun!" - Who is there? Don't come near me! Don't touch me!**_

_**"Miksi? Mitä olet katsonut?" - Why? What have you seen?**_

Chapter 17

Hermione was curious and a bit worried; what was it that Dumbledore wanted to discuss with her? Was it something concerning her research on elemental magic, or her efforts with Severus? Slightly uneasy she made her way up to the headmaster's office. When she entered after he called her in, he was still busy with making tea. This puzzled Hermione, for Dumbledore usually just conjured up tea and other things he liked to have. But it gave her time for some silent observations. When he at last turned to her and offered her a cup she noticed his worn-out look. He appeared tired, sorrowful and, hadn't he been _Dumbledore_, at the edge of his nerves. Hermione took her cup and wondered what had happened. Instantly her thoughts were back on Severus and Malfoy senior... The headmaster settled into his armchair and regarded her with a serious gaze.

"I have called you because I have to fill you in with some information. It concerns Severus, and you must have this knowledge before you visit him today. Last night..."

Dumbledore paused and seemed to make up his mind how to tell her what he had to. Hermione grew cold; what had happened? Had there been, at last, an attack?

"Last night, Severus had a nightmare. You know that he had shorter nightmares and uneasy dreams during the last ten days; this one, however, has a deeper connection. He told me yesterday what he had seen and experienced during the dream, and I found that it had replayed the exact scene that gave Severus, nearly twenty years ago, the final strike to leave Voldemort and to confess to me and the Order.

In that time, Severus had already doubted Voldemort's plans and the path he had chosen, and he was repulsed by the actions that were undertaken. Nevertheless, he then was too frightened to go into action against the lot by himself; for the service to Voldemort is nothing you can quit without losing your life.

So he was damned to hold on, to endure all the scenes and actions he didn't want to commit, but which he could not prevent either. I can't tell you Severus' motivations when he joined Voldemort at first, this is a far too private matter. But Voldemort himself had a certain interest to have him in his ranks, for his ingenious potion-making skills and his brilliant strategic mind. And when Voldemort wants you, there is seldom a way besides death to escape him.

However, one day Severus received the order from his direct superior to create a potion that should make everything covered with it soluble to water. He was not told the purpose of this potion, as it was custom to know only his very own orders and nothing of the larger context. Although he suspected and feared a misuse of such a potion, he had no other choice than to create it. Of course he succeeded, and supplied his superior with a large quantity of it, as ordered. He was then quite relieved neither to hear nor to see anything else about it or why it was needed, and how it was used.

Then, nearly half a year later, he was awarded entrance into a closer circle to Voldemort – and his former superior, now equal, presented him with a kind of "welcome"-gift. In a small pensieve he had stored the memory of how he had used Severus' potion. I don't want to get into detail here, all you must know is that the superior had used it on a human, with horrible results. It became clear that the superior had abused the chain of orders for his own interests, and he had made Severus to create that potion while giving the impression that Voldemort himself had ordered it. Of course he was punished for this, but Voldemort seemed to be quite amused by the use of the potion, and no further consequences aroused.

Severus, however, had to watch the whole terrible scene in the other's memory, unable to escape until it was over. As I said, it was the final blow to him. He came to me, and in doing so put his life into my hands. I believe you know the rest of the story. After confessing everything, he pleaded me to give him a chance to pay for his guilt. He had seen no way out of his situation and his guilt, therefore he came for my help. You know the way we finally worked out."

Hermione nodded numbly. She had known about Snape's past for a while now, and of course she had mused about it. She had also suspected some kind of key-moment that had made Snape seen the madness of Voldemort's actions; but to hear it, the very reference-point of his turning, and the cause, was beyond her worst imaginations. She felt paralyzed, and didn't want to think about it too closely. Dumbledore relieved her from her imagination running wild by continuing.

"The reason why I told you all this is, of course, the appearance of Severus' nightmare. I believe, and a specialist at St. Mungos agrees with me, that it is a true sign that Severus' memory has not been lastingly damaged. This scene was his worst traumatic experience, and therefore the first, the most powerful to come back to him. I suppose it means that his memory will come back from now on. This can happen step by step or all at once, depending on how much he wants to think about and work with it.

This dream was only the first step; you ought to know that because he will change accordingly to what he remembers. And you, of course, have to react to this, especially to changes of behaviour and mood. That is, if you still want to continue your practise with Severus after what I have told you."

Hermione thought about it and questioned herself. It was horrible knowledge which Dumbledore had bestowed on her. There was no room for guessing anymore, for telling herself that Severus had been a Death Eater, yes, but had somehow managed to keep out of torture and murder, that perhaps he had only been a small number in the ranks, not really endowed with responsibility... This possibility of self-illusion was destroyed now. Would she now been able to look at him, to look into his eyes, to help him, without being terrified by her knowledge? She felt into herself. She was horrified and repulsed; but, somehow, she could not connect these feelings to her mental image or memory of Severus, neither as her teacher nor as the man who needed her help at the moment. She looked up and found Dumbledore watching her.

"I'm not sure if I can continue; I think I have to see him again to know that for sure. But I'm willing to do as much as I can for him."

Dumbledore nodded slowly and smiled; and Hermione was astonished to see so much relief in this smile. The headmaster refilled her cup.

"You know you can always come to me for help and consolation. Nobody will force you to continue against you will."

Hermione nodded again, firmly this time. Dumbledore smiled again.

"If you choose to visit Severus this evening, I have to warn you about his behaviour and reactions. He is quite in a state now, and most likely trying to scare you. Do him the favour and ignore the rantings, even if he acts the bastard. And if he becomes really insulting, tell him he can leave the hospital wing tomorrow. Poppy just told me that he can move back into his rooms, if he reports to her once a day to let her have a look at his arm."

A light twinkle was back in Dumbledore's eyes while he told her that over the rim of his teacup, and Hermione was heartily relieved by it.

Hermione did choose to visit Severus the same evening. Wondering how she should brace herself against his "rantings", she was quite on guard when she stepped into his room in the infirmary. She didn't know exactly how she had expected Severus to be, but _some_ kind of action was certainly involved in her imagination. Therefore she became rather uncertain when she found him lying in his bed on his stomach, eyes half-opened, staring vacantly to his side into the air. She noticed his eyes being slightly swollen and red; and then she scolded herself for her naivety. As calm and neutral as Dumbledore might have told her about last night's events and background, she really could have thought about the effects such an ordeal must have on Severus. Far from being repulsed by his sight, she felt the pressing desire to comfort him, to let him know that she would not desert him on the account of his errors in the past. She moved towards him; but she had hardly reached his bed when he turned over, and faced the other side of the room. She sat down on the bed, but he shrunk away from her when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Severus?"

Nothing.

"Severus, please."

No reply.

"Severus..."

She fell silent and began to stroke his back gently. He got rigid at once, but she continued, trying to out-silence him. After what felt like hours he resigned himself to show a reaction.

"Miksi sinä olet täällä?"

"Er..."

"Eikö Albus ole kerronut kaikin?! En tarvitse sinun säälin. Hävitä! Jätä minut rauhaan!"

Hermione didn't understand all of it, but she got the message. She kept stroking his back and tried to speak with him; but he would always answer her in Finnish, very rapidly (and empathically), undoubtly telling her to piss off and never come back again. He tried to frustrate her by giving her not the slightest chance to understand what he was saying or asking her. Soon enough her ears started ringing under his tirade, low-voiced at his was. She briefly contemplated simply turning him around and telling him to shut up; but she wanted to show him that she was worried about him, not angry. Soon she found a different possibility.

She kicked off her shoes and snuggled close to him, putting an arm around him and resting her hand on his chest. He nearly jumped out of the bed, but she was able to restrain him with her embrace. He looked round at her, and Hermione saw he was terrified. He seemed not to be able to believe in the possibility that Hermione might still like him, and care for him. She propped her head on her other hand and looked him square in the eye.

"Yes, Albus told me everything. And I still want to help you. I want to see you through all this mess, and you can scold and insult me in every language you like, you will not drive me away. I may not have seen the things you have; I have no idea how horrible they were, and how far you were indulged in them. But you are mistaken if you think I will hate you, or be repulsed; because for that, I care too much for you."

Severus' expression had changed from shock to desperation to something Hermione was unable to interpret. After she had finished, he stared at her blankly, but his eyes glittered. Then he cast his eyes down and turned around again, with a defeated and broken air. Hermione followed his movement and embraced him tighter, her cheek resting on his shoulder. She barely heard his words.

"Don't. I can't bear it."

She looked at him quickly and watched tears silently running down, his eyes closed. She acted intuitively. Bending over him, gently ruffling his hair, she kissed his tears away, kissed the corner of his eyes, his brow, his temple. It felt so natural to her, feeling his warm and wet skin under her lips, though it sent waves of electricity through her, concentrating tightly in her solarplexus. Severus gasped and finally turned around to her. Taking refuge to her embrace he rested his head on her neck, still crying silently. Hermione kept stroking him, and kissing him from time to time. They remained in that way a long time; finally, his tears were at an end, and they both fell into slumber.

_**Translation:**_

"_**Miksi sinä olet täällä?" - Why are you here?**_

"**_Eikö Albus ole kerronut kaikin?! En tarvitse sinun säälin. Hävitä! Jätä minut rauhaan!"_**

_**- Hasn't Albus told you everything? I don't need your pity. Go! Leave me alone!**_


End file.
